One Red Thread
by balmorhea
Summary: After finding himself stuck in Gryffindor, Sirius must learn to toe the fine line between two opposing forces—that of his Dark family and his Light friends.
1. The Most Noble House of Black

One Red Thread

After finding himself stuck in Gryffindor, Sirius must learn to toe the fine line between two opposing forces—that of his Dark family and his Light friends.

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><p>AN: I have written this story as a way to explore the transition from Sirius's beginnings as a respectable heir in the Black family to his eventual running away and being disowned. As a result, young Sirius is much more arrogant and ignorant than the character he will grow up to be once exposed to a very different world and way of thinking at Hogwarts. The way Sirius talks, behaves, and thinks in the beginning are all indicative of his strict upbringing in the Black household. His rebellion will be gradual, and it will take some time before he starts to change his mind about his family's views.

I have also greatly enjoyed writing Walburga's character so far, and I hope to reveal her evil, crazy side in the story soon. I've always pictured her as a fan of psychological torture more than physical abuse, and this will be the primary force driving her character.

I hope you all enjoy the story, and please leave a review with your thoughts and suggestions.

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><p>Chapter one:<p>

"Sirius, if you cannot straighten up you will be stuck with crooked robes this year, and be an absolute laugh among your peers at school!"

Sirius resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and instead made a deliberate display of adjusting his position. He was sure he couldn't possibly stand up any straighter, but leave it to Walburga Black to find fault. The tape measure was now taking note of the length of Sirius's ears, and he fought the urge to swat it away.

Satisfied with her son's new posture, Mrs. Black turned back to her sister-in-law, Aunt Druella, and continued their gossip. "Can you believe the nerve?"

"Some people simply have no sense of conduct," Aunt Druella surmised, sipping her tea. "But I suppose if one is brought up without any of the proper teachings or etiquette expected in higher society, we can hardly count ourselves surprised."

"But a mudblood!" Walburga whispered just loud enough for Sirius to overhear, placing a delicate hand over her heart. Aunt Druella shook her head darkly. "In _The Dorchester, _no less!"

"I can only imagine what the restaurant had to endure—"

"Oh, they were removed at once!" Walburga informed her, setting down her teacup in its matching porcelain saucer. "It is no small insult to the Roux family to bring the filth of the lower classes into such an esteemed restaurant. Needless to say, moving forward, only pureblooded families can request a reservation."

The tailor measuring Sirius finally stepped away and Sirius was able to let his tired arms drop to his sides. He had received his Hogwarts letter the week before, and so Walburga had arranged for custom robes of silk and fine virgin wool "for each of the seasons." Regulus had been jealous of all Sirius's extra attention, but now, hovering on the far side of the room, he appeared glad that he was not the one being accosted by pins and measuring tapes.

"Sirius, step over here," Walburga said suddenly, not looking over at her son. It would be beneath a witch of her status to gesture or even turn her gaze; instead it was Sirius who must place himself in her line of sight. Sirius did as he was told, careful to step lightly. Walburga often complained of Sirius's "thunderous footsteps" and insisted the sound was nothing short of a herd of rogue Hippogriffs.

"He's gotten quite tall," Aunt Druella remarked.

"Indeed; I suspect he may have inherited his Grandfather Arcturus's height," Walburga replied. Sirius kept his mouth shut tight. He wanted to ask his mother why he had to stand so still and straight if all that would come of it was two ladies remarking casually about his appearance. But he knew better.

Walburga had a few strips of fabric in her lap and held them to Sirius. "You are in need of new dress robes. Which color do you prefer?"

They were all shades of grey, emerald, and navy. Dreary colors made worse by the dull texture of the fabric. Walburga was very particular about the colors her sons were allowed to wear in society, insisting grey brought out the pale color of their eyes.

Sirius thumbed through them twice, unable to think of something he could care less about. "What about my dress robes from last year?" he asked, careful to keep his tone light. It would not do well to incite an argument with his hot-tempered mother. "Can we not extend the length?"

Aunt Druella gave him a small smile full of superiority while Walburga insisted, "Certainly not. You are expected to be dressed in the latest fashions—I will not have my son at the Ministry's Christmas Ball in the same robes that are now mimicked among the lower classes."

Sirius gave a sort of half-shrug and chose one at random.

Walburga examined the pale grey swatch carefully. "No, select something darker," she finally decided. "The lighter shades make you too youthful."

Sirius could practically feel the amusement radiating out of his younger brother in the corner. Sirius wanted to turn around and announce that Regulus would be next in line for such a torture as selecting robe colors. Instead he chose a dark emerald green and grey wool blend, the first dark color his eyes caught.

Walburga, satisfied with the selection, set the swatch on the table nearby. "And a set of dress robes in this color," she said without looking up. The tailor, a thin, rather petite man with red hair, quickly snatched up the fabric as though he was unwilling to be close to the Black matriarch for too long.

"Mother," said Sirius hopefully before she could dismiss him from the room. "Will you take me to Diagon Alley today?"

It was shortly after breakfast, and Sirius didn't have lessons with their governess until tomorrow. That left the day wide open, and Sirius was eager to get his own wand.

"Certainly not," she said curtly. Her dark eyes caught sight of Sirius's slightly crestfallen face and her normally stern features softened. "It is the weekend, and I suspect Diagon Alley will be filled with the lower classes, all rushing to fit their errands into one day. We shall go on Monday after breakfast," she allowed, and Sirius grinned widely. "Now find some useful employment while your Aunt and I talk," she added pointedly.

Sirius didn't need telling twice. He all but ran to the door, and Regulus followed Sirius out of their mother's private parlor and down a flight of stairs toward their day room. Sirius threw himself over the arm of the davenport, letting his feet dangle over the edge while he looked up at the painted constellation on the high ceiling.

"You'll write me when you get there, won't you?" Regulus asked, his tone betraying his jealousy.

Sirius turned his head to look at his brother. "'Course I will," he said confidently, and Regulus smiled. "By the time you get there, I'll know all the passages and corridors, and the best way to get to classes. And if there really is a giant squid in the lake."

"Cissy says there are ghosts," Regulus informed him, trying to keep a brave face.

"And acromantulas, centaurs, and maybe even dragons!"

Regulus looked frightened at that. "D-dragons?"

"Well, sure," said Sirius flippantly, waving a hand. "How else do they keep the school safe from the muggles?"

"I overheard Aunt Druella talking to Bella," said Regulus quietly. "They think Andromeda has a muggle boyfriend."

Sirius sat up at that, frowning. "How's she dating a muggle if she's at Hogwarts?" he asked.

Regulus sighed. "Maybe he's a muggleborn. I don't know, I just heard Aunt Druella telling Cousin Bella to talk to Andromeda—stop the rumors, you know."

"There wouldn't be quite so many rumors if Aunt Druella didn't gossip so much," Sirius decided, laying back down on the davenport. "How did you overhear?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius saw his younger brother shrug, settling himself down on a nearby chair. "Yesterday, during lessons with Grandfather—I think they forgot I was in the same room."

Sirius smirked at that. "Can you imagine? Andromeda and a muggle—I think Mother would die."

"You can't tell anyone I've told you," Regulus pressed, sounding earnest. "I wasn't supposed to know, and if anyone hears—"

Sirius waved a hand flippantly. "Who'm I going to tell it to? It doesn't matter, anyway. It's not like Andromeda can marry him or anything. Besides, everyone's too busy crooning over Cissy and her boyfriend, and wondering when they will get married."

"Who's he?" Regulus asked.

"Lucius Malfoy," Sirius supplied. "You've met him once—tall, blonde fellow. He was at Aunt Druella's stupid dinner two weeks ago."

Regulus looked thoughtful for a moment before his pale face broke into a wide grin. "He's the one you kept calling 'Lucy,' right?"

"I don't think he took to me, much."

"Well, you'll have to mind your manners," said Regulus in a poor attempt at mimicking their mother's strict tone. "You'll be going to Hogwarts now, and you mustn't embarrass everybody."

Sirius suddenly felt gloomy at that. "I don't know anyone in my year," he told his brother. "Cissy's closest to my age, but a bunch of Fifth Years aren't going to want to be seen with me."

"What about Evan Rosier?" Regulus asked. "He's a year older, but we've met him."

Sirius half-shrugged. "I guess. He's just…a bit of a prat, really."

"You'll talk to me when I start at Hogwarts, though, right?" Regulus asked, suddenly looking very unsure. He was two years younger, and everyone in the family constantly remarked how very taken he was with his elder brother.

"'Course I will," Sirius said confidently. "I can't let you fall into the wrong hands, can I?"

Regulus grinned at that.

Suddenly there was a loud _crack _and their House Elf, Kreacher, appeared in the doorway. He gave a ridiculously low bow and said to the floor, "Master Arcturus is requesting your presence."

Sirius straightened up and looked around at Regulus before saying, "What, both of us?"

Kreacher straightened up. "Yes, both Masters Sirius and Regulus." The Elf's tone was neutrally polite, but Sirius didn't miss the sharp look in Kreacher's eye when he looked at him. Kreacher had never dared to let it be known, but Sirius suspected the House Elf strongly disliked him. Perhaps it had something to do with having to constantly clean up dungbombs, or assist with removing all the itching powder from the table linens before family events.

Grandfather Arcturus was stern and seldom seen around the Black family house, except at dinner. He was an esteemed member of the Wizengamot and International Confederation of Wizards, specializing in Wizarding Law. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with stern black eyes and a heavy hand. His deceased wife had to charm all of the family china and crystal to withstand his firm grip. Sirius and Regulus took lessons from Grandfather Arcturus once a week, his schedule permitting, to learn about the Black family traditions, lineage, wealth, and general prestige. Grandfather Arcturus was stern and intimidating, and as a result, Sirius and Regulus dreaded their lessons with him.

Sirius and Regulus got to their feet, quickly going over their appearance with one another—shirttails tucked in, ties straightened, and hair in place—before heading to the far side of the house that Grandfather Arcturus lived in. The entire second floor was reserved for his own particular use, equipped with libraries, a study, and two private parlors for guests. As Sirius and Regulus made their way down the highly-polished corridor with trepidation, they realized they didn't actually know which part of the house Arcturus would be in.

They passed the door to his smaller parlor when they heard a throat clear itself loudly. Sirius stopped dead in his tracks, and Regulus—who had been following closely behind—smacked into him.

Grandfather Arcturus was sitting at a writing desk, with what looked like several pocketbooks stacked nearby and an ivory abacus in front of him. The Black brothers knew better than to dare interrupt Arcturus, and instead waited patiently by the doorway until their grandfather was ready to receive them.

Sirius had only stepped foot in this particular parlor to investigate its contents secretly. The Black House skeleton key had been carelessly dropped in the first floor landing, and Sirius had pocketed it in order to explore all the secret, locked rooms of the house he and Regulus were banned from. The parlor itself was very handsome with cherry paneling and ivory wallpaper. A china cabinet and bookcase were neatly arranged on one side while several armchairs and sofas were arranged on the other. There were charmed windows in between the two sides, leading to a lovely view of the garden despite the fact that the wall in question was an interior wall of the house.

Without much warning, Arcturus suddenly snapped his pocketbook shut and turned to face his two young grandsons with an unreadable stare. Sirius habitually straightened up, eyes slightly downcast as he waited for Grandfather Arcturus to speak.

"When is Walburga taking you to Diagon Alley?" Arcturus asked lazily, stuffing his notebook inside a chest pocket of his jacket.

"On Monday, Grandfather."

He gave a non-commital "Hmmm" at that. Sirius and Regulus shot each other looks out of the corners of their eyes.

"And she has prepared a tailor to fit you for school robes?"

"Just this morning, Grandfather."

"She will spend a fortune, no doubt," he grumbled. As far as Sirius knew, the Black family fortune was almost endless between investments and interest, but Grandfather Arcturus had always watched the family books very carefully regardless. "I suspect you will grow out of that fine silk in a month's time."

Sirius didn't reply.

"Since you will soon be leaving us for school, I have added thirty Galleons a month to your Gringott's allowance," Arcturus said.

Sirius had to fight the urge to smile. He felt Regulus fidget next to him.

"And on your behalf," he continued. "I have invested ten Galleons a month of that allowance. You will inherit your wealth at seventeen, but there is no reason you should not learn to invest your money now."

For a split second, Sirius was torn between disappointment at losing those ten Galleons a month and the fact that he wouldn't have much opportunity to spend money anyway. He put on a careful face, the first skill he ever learned as a Black, and said politely, "Thank you, Grandfather."

"You have a brave face, Regulus, but not a very convincing one," said Arcturus, turning on his younger grandson. "Your turn will come in time. Do not be jealous of your brother, but instead be grateful that you do not have to lead by example. It is never easy being the eldest sibling."

Regulus's voice was quiet, but much more convincing than Sirius would have managed if their positions were switched, "Yes, Grandfather. I am very fortunate to have Sirius as my elder brother."

"Now," said Arcturus, turning slightly in his seat to face his grandsons head-on. "Your Grandfather Pollux is hosting the Malfoy family for dinner next weekend, and I want you both to _behave," _he said, adding emphasis to the last word as he looked between them. "No pranks, no jokes of any kind." He paused, then added in a kinder tone, "While I personally suspect the Malfoy boy could use a ribbing, your Aunt Druella—and therefore your mother—will not hear of it. This is a very important time for Narcissa, and while Druella is not my blood, she is still a Black. If either of you should step out of line, I will not ask your mother to hold back her hand. You understand?"

Sirius knew all too well the cruel punishments his mother was capable of, far worse than the simple and straightforward blows Grandfather Arcturus used.

"Yes, sir," the Black boys said in unison.

"Then we have an understanding," said Arcturus. "Now, I have work to be done. You are excused."

Sirius and Regulus were careful to step lightly until they reached the staircase, where they ran up it to the top floor. Their bedrooms were across the hall from one another, and other than the joint bathroom, were the only rooms up here. The hallway was more of a wide landing, and was equipped with a davenport and a few portraits. Sirius and Regulus had long since dragged an extra armchair up here, much to their mother's annoyance. They flopped down on the furniture, breathless.

"An extra thirty galleons a _month_?" Regulus said incredulously.

"Well, really it's twenty," said Sirius, shrugging. He let out a heavy breath. "Can you believe that, though? What on earth am I going to do with that much money at school?"

"Maybe it's more of a show than anything else," said Regulus knowingly. "I don't think Grandfather actually expects you to be able to spend it."

"True," said Sirius, shrugging again. "Let's go find Kreacher—I'm starving."

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><p>It was very difficult for Sirius to focus on his schedule that weekend. The governess, a rather sour-looking Miss Nerissa Bole, arrived at ten o'clock on the dot. Sirius and Regulus were long in the habit of being prompt, and were leaning lazily against their table until the door knob turned. They bolted up, standing respectfully at their chairs while they waited for Ms. Bole to take her usual seat. Regulus almost tripped over his chair leg in the process, and Sirius had to grab his arm roughly to catch him.<p>

Ms. Bole's dark eyes flashed over them warningly before she took her usual seat. Sirius and Regulus exchanged one last mischievous look before taking their own.

Ms. Bole pulled out her two practice wands, setting them on the table in front of her. "We will continue our practice of household charms today," she told Sirius. "Your father requests that you master the most commonly-used charms before beginning school."

Sirius took the wand gloomily—he was tired of boring household spells and would much rather practice something more exciting, like dueling or transfiguration.

"And Master Regulus, you shall resume your practice of wand technique—absolutely _no _incantations," she added warningly at the look on Regulus's face. She turned back to Sirius, and said, "This afternoon we will practice _Reparo, _a very useful spell to master when in the presence of rowdy young boys." She said this last bit almost bitterly, and Sirius couldn't help but wonder if she was still sore about him accidentally making her tea cup explode the month before.

They began the lesson simply enough—Ms. Bole provided a mirror which she shattered over and over until Sirius could repair it seamlessly. By the end of the two-hour lesson, they had progressed to a crystal goblet full of water. Sirius was able to repair the goblet well enough, but couldn't figure out how to get the water to go back inside of it in the same movement.

At twelve o'clock sharp the clock chimed for lunch. Sirius and Regulus ate their roasted vegetables and herring in their day room while Ms. Bole retired to their mother's private parlor. By one o'clock, it was back to lessons for another two hours. Ms. Bole assigned Regulus several sections out of her beginner's Potions book to memorize while Sirius was given a lengthy and rather boring chapter in _History of Magic _to review. Finally, the clock chimed the end of their lessons and Sirius and Regulus turned in their work before hurrying out of their day room and into the garden. They would only have half an hour before their mother insisted that they join her for an hour of reading in her tea parlor. Sirius wouldn't mind the reading hour so much if he had actually been allowed to choose his own reading material. Whenever Walburga was cross with him, she often made him read chapters out of _Nature's Nobility. _

Sunday was a day of leisure for the Blacks, which meant Sirius and Regulus only had to endure an hour-long French lesson after a late brunch, and then joined their father and Uncles Cygnus and Alphard at the Black summer estate in Eastbourne for hunting. Sirius wasn't sure if the activity could rightly be called "hunting." His understanding of the sport involved tracking prey, but his father and uncles merely lounged around on a well-manicured lawn while grouse were set loose from traps. Sirius and Regulus were considered too young to participate, but this time around Orion Black handed his wand to Sirius.

"Did your governess teach you how to stun?" he asked, guiding Sirius into the appropriate stance while Regulus watched on with barely-concealed jealousy. Sirius's father and uncles, of course, did not use stunning charms while hunting, but Orion Black was not about to teach his son how to kill before he had learned to master his magic.

"Yes," Sirius lied. He knew how to stun, but it was not Ms. Bole who taught him.

"Track the birds with your eye," Orion instructed, guiding Sirius's arm. "Follow their flight path, and aim for the space right in front of them."

The first attempt barely grazed the goose; feathers flew everywhere and the bird let out a scandalized cry before straightening up in its flight path and hurrying away. The second attempt was dead-center, and the bird dropped out of the air. Uncle Alphard's retriever bounded forward and scooped the stunned bird up before trotting over with the prize.

"Take it home to your mother," Uncle Alphard told the two Black boys after the bird's neck had been snapped. "You may inform her that my dogs had a taste of it first, and found grouse to be acceptable fare."

This appeared to be some kind of joke among the older men, because they all laughed heartily at that. Sirius offered an unsure smile, watching as Uncle Cygnus's House Elf scurried off toward the house with the dead bird.

The goose ended up being dinner that night, though Sirius noticed his father was careful to assure Walburga that Alphard had not brought his dogs hunting.

"I don't understand why he insists on those disgusting beasts to accompany him," Walburga sniffed over her first course. "Such a muggle habit to keep dogs around."

"Your brother will do as he pleases," said Orion diplomatically, taking a sip of wine. "He always does."

"And that is precisely why my brother has found himself a perpetual bachelor," Walburga replied. "No sensible woman would keep animals in the house like some common witch."

"Mother," Sirius spoke up, careful to keep his eyes on his own plate even as he felt his mother's latch onto him. "What time are we going to Diagon Alley tomorrow?"

"After breakfast."

"Immediately after breakfast?" he tried hopefully.

Walburga set her silverware down on the table in a dramatic display of irritation before continuing, "We will go when we go, Sirius. Not all of us have unlimited leisure time, and have other appointments to keep."

Sirius knew his mother had nothing to do tomorrow other than gossip with Aunt Druella, but knew better than to say so. Walburga simply liked to assure everyone that they were a great inconvenience on her, and how she suffered so.

"May I come?" Regulus spoke up.

"Certainly not," Walburga replied. "The necessary errands will take long enough as it is, I do not need to babysit the two of you in a place like Diagon Alley."

Sirius shot an apologetic look over at his brother, who was careful not to look crestfallen at the dinner table. The pouting would be reserved for the privacy of his bedroom later that evening.

Sirius was unable to eat much breakfast that morning; too great was his excitement. Walburga insisted that her eldest son finish his plate, and even demanded that he eat seconds in spite of the fact that Sirius was not a big eater. It was a deliberate gesture, designed to prolong the point until they left for Diagon Alley and go disguised as motherly concern. Yet "motherly" and "concerned" were two things Walburga never was. Sirius had to force the food down, constantly stealing glances at the clock in the corner of the breakfast room when Walburga wasn't looking.

Finally he was able to slip away from the table and run upstairs to change. He anticipated his mother scolding his choice of clothing, insisting Sirius was out to embarrass her in public, and so Sirius had carefully selected his nicest summer clothes in his wardrobe. He combed his hair neatly, and made sure that his shoes weren't scuffed. When Walburga finally appeared on the first floor landing, even she couldn't find something out of place.

"Straighten your socks," she instructed.

Or maybe she could.

Sirius hastily did as he was told. Walburga looked him over once more, then said, "We will be apparating there."

Sirius knew it was too much to hope for his mother to use the Floo Network—only the men in his family seemed indifferent to the soot—and so took his mother's arm with his tongue between his teeth.

Once the nauseating spinning had subsided, Sirius followed his mother up the cobbled lane as they made their way toward the wizarding bank, Gringott's. Walburga, despite insisting what a great inconvenience the shopping trip imposed on her schedule, walked at a leisurely pace. Sirius had to force himself to walk slowly—_too slowly for anyone in their right mind—_to keep pace with his mother. Walburga, of course, marched down the middle of the street without a mind to who or what they might run into. Everyone around them seemed to catch on to her great self-importance, and took care to step out of her way.

Once in the bank, Walburga refused to wait in line and instead beckoned the nearest goblin over with a snap of her fingers. Sirius waited quietly beside her, aware of the stares they were receiving. Walburga was either oblivious or indifferent as she began barking out instructions to the goblin before he had quite finished with his current customer.

With their money bags full several minutes later, Sirius and Walburga headed for Flourish and Blotts. A few students and their parents were inside, casually skimming the endless rows of books.

"You there," Walburga said to the salesgirl unpacking several boxes of what appeared to be _Advanced Transfiguration. _"We need all the textbooks required of First Year. And I would like them from the back of the shop, not what you have on the shelves—too many people have been touching the pages and damaging them."

Sirius wondered what Walburga expected to happen to his own textbooks the moment he reached school, but kept his mouth shut. Walburga knew her status on society, and was not afraid to make sure everyone else did, too.

The salesgirl stood up, frowning at being spoken to like a servant. She caught sight of Walburga's expensive robes, and put on a tight-lipped smile. "Of course, ma'am."

While the salesgirl disappeared in the back, Walburga skimmed over a selection of books of rather questionable content. Sirius was left alone to wander the shop for a few minutes, and gravitated toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts section. It was easily his favorite subject with his governess, but Ms. Bole didn't touch on the topic as much as she did with Transfiguration or History of Magic. He found a text on beginning dueling, and decided that it would be his first purchase with his new allowance from Grandfather Arcturus.

"Mother, I am buying this book," Sirius told Walburga when he found her coming out of the classical fiction section.

Walburga took the book from her son's hands and skimmed through the pages for several silent minutes. "Very well," she said, snapping it shut. "We shall order a new one along with your schoolbooks. You there—" she said, catching sight of the now-annoyed looking salesgirl. "A new copy of this one as well."

"That's our last copy," she replied, setting the heavy tack of Sirius's still-wrapped books on the counter.

"That's okay," Sirius said before his mother could speak. Walburga gave the girl an exasperated look, as though she ought to sympathize with Walburga's unspoken "boys will be boys."

"Those texts are to be mailed to our address on file," Walburga informed the girl, extracting her velvet purse.

The girl frowned. "We have to send three extra owls to carry the weight—it's three times the standard mailing charge, plus an additional fee—"

Walburga gave her a smile before setting down a large handful of gold coins. "It is a _small _matter."

The girl didn't reply, instead counting out the money and handing Walburga her change and invoice. Sirius paid for his book, insisting he would carry it out and didn't need it mailed. Walburga didn't argue the point, instead checking her watch with a bored expression.

This was all a display, of course. Walburga might speak poorly of Diagon Alley, but in truth she loved being in the public's eye. She adored the jealous stares, and savored every opportunity to subtly imply her status was unattainable. Even other society women let their eyes linger on Walburga's expensive custom robes just a little too long. The one thing Walburga adored more than being the center of everyone's attention was pretending to be modest and oblivious to it all. She cherished twisting the knife of jealousy in every witch or wizard she met while out in public.

It took a subtle cruelty to stand at the top of society, and Walburga was the master at it.

After the bookstore came the apothecary. Once again Walburga arranged to have the supplies neatly wrapped and delivered by owl post to save her the slight inconvenience of carrying a few packages. Normally Kreacher accompanied Walburga on her shopping trips for that very reason, but today she had insisted to keep their party to just herself and Sirius. Sirius was sure this was to silently let every business in Diagon Alley know that she could afford to have her purchases mailed to her out of whimsy.

Sirius had already been fitted for robes, so they bypassed all of the tailors and instead headed for Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop for miscellaneous supplies. Sirius was allowed to pick out whichever quills he liked while Walburga selected several pots of emerald and black anti-blotting ink. There were numerous rolls of parchment, ink remover, a handful of silver-tipped eagle-feather quills, and a fine leather case all neatly wrapped up and added to Walburga's list of mail-orders.

It was a fine day, and so Walburga allowed them to stop at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor for sundaes. She and Sirius were seated at the best window seat, enjoying their mid-afternoon treat when Walburga caught the eye of Epona Mulciber and her son, Lucian. Sirius was familiar with the family, having seen them at the Ministry Christmas Ball each year. The Mulcibers, as far as Walburga was concerned, were not high enough in society to warrant an invitation to any of her own events as there was "far too much blood-mixing" in the Mulciber line. Epona herself was only half-blooded, but Walburga insisted the woman pretended to be pure.

"My, what a pleasure seeing you out and about," Epona said, walking over with her son in tow. Epona had pale skin and reddish blonde hair that she kept neatly braided against her head. Her pale eyes searched over Walburga and Sirius, silently taking in their expensive robes. Lucian and Sirius had not gotten along since Sirius had played a prank on him two years before, and so both boys carefully looked the other way while their mothers pretended to talk. Really it was more a carefully-choreographed dance of social niceties and subtle insults. "You must be purchasing Sirius's school supplies!" she said, looking between them and noticing there were no packages. "Oh, but you've only just begun—we can't always get an early start, can we?"

"Actually, I've found it to be more convenient to have Sirius pick out what he prefers and to have them mailed to us. It saves one the trouble of having to carry such a load around town, don't you think? And our poor House Elf was much too busy preparing our weekend dinner to accompany us today," said Walburga. Her tone was expertly crafted to accompany the pointed smile she gave the other woman. "But I see that you have just come from the tailor! Did you use Fancourt's Fine Robes or Twilfit and Tattings? We had a tailor come and fit Sirius just the other day from Twilfit's."

"Madam Malkin's is perfectly suitable for student robes," Epona Mulciber said stiffly. "Children will grow out of them rather quickly, and I can only imagine the singed sleeves and spilled potions ingredients. It really is more sensible to have a sturdy robe that can withstand the day-to-day activities of children, is it not?"

Walburga pursed her lips. "I believe it must be, if one is concerned about the cost of replacements."

Sirius looked up at the rude insinuation, looking from his mother to Epona. Epona, remarkably, kept her face passive, even smiling. "I believe it is more about the message. I certainly would not want to send my children to school with such an ostensible display of wealth as custom robes—Lucian and my girls will learn to focus more on their studies and prospects, and rather less on showing off their possessions. Even among society, that kind of pride is rather tasteless."

Walburga wasn't bothered by the insult. Both women knew Walburga Black was far too wealthy—by birth and by marriage—to let petty jealousy do anything other than fuel her endless pride. Sirius had heard enough of society witch gossip to know that Epona's remark reflected more poorly on her own jealousy than on Walburga.

"We must be going, now, so we shall leave you two to your afternoon of shopping," said Epona with a warm smile. "Come along, Lucian."

Walburga offered her a smile in return, but did not bid her any farewells. When the Mulcibers left the shop, Walburga turned to Sirius. "You must carry yourself with the proper decorum at all times," she told him. "Petty jealousy will find its way to you. It is part of your inheritance as a Black that you are superior to those of not only inferior birth, but inferior status. Those beneath you will cling to your robes with their hands out, begging for favors, friendship, even money. It would be rude not to engage with lower people from time to time as a form of pittance, but never forget your place, lest they forget theirs."

Sirius simply nodded his understanding.

"Well, we have made arrangements for all of your supplies," she said, extracting Sirius's school letter from her robes. "That leaves us with the task of selecting you an owl, and then we shall go to Ollivander's."

Sirius lit up at that.

Walburga was careful to stay near the front of the shop where the floor was free of owl droppings while Sirius roamed the rafters, peering in the dim light for an owl that stood out. He would have to have a handsome owl, certainly, and not one that was too slight. Most of the birds were asleep at the noon hour, but a few were hooting quietly in their perches, watching Sirius as he moved through the room. Then, in the far corner, he spotted a pair of wide orange eyes. Sirius moved closer, and saw that they belonged to a beautiful eagle owl with a tawny and black spotted plumage. The owl ruffled a few of her feathers, readjusting her position on her perch. She regarded Sirius with curiosity, clicking her beak at him.

Sirius held out his arm tentatively, hoping his mother didn't notice when the owl's claws snagged threads out of his sweater. The owl gave a soft hoot before hopping forward.

"Mother, I have found the one I like," Sirius announced when he neared the front counter.

"Ah, an eagle owl!" said the shopkeeper. "A very distinctive species—the one you have is still very young. They grow to be larger than snowy owls, but are just a hair smaller than great grey owls. Very suited to all climates, particularly mountainous regions. The one you have there came to us from a breeder in Mongolia."

"What is their temperament?" Walburga asked.

"Eagle owls are apex predators. They have a very calm disposition, but can be aggressive and territorial if they feel threatened. With proper wizarding care, eagle owls often live up to sixty years."

Walburga nodded approvingly at that, withdrawing her coin purse. "Very well. And we shall of course need all the necessary equipment to care for this owl. What is your best owl cage?"

Sirius remained where he was while his mother and the shopkeeper examined owl cages. "What should I name you?" he asked the owl. The owl shook her feathers and let out a few droppings on the floor that missed Sirius's foot by inches. Sirius laughed at that. "Well, you're a Black owl, so we should follow Black family tradition. How about Lyra? I think that could be rather fitting."

The owl hooted in reply and closed her bright orange eyes sleepily.

Walburga appeared then, a large silver cage in the shopkeeper's hands just behind her. She caught sight of the droppings on the floor, and her nose wrinkled. "I do hope eagle owls don't let their droppings fall just anywhere."

"No more than other owls, ma'am," said the shopkeeper, ringing up their purchases. "They all do their business wherever they please."


	2. Family Tradition

Chapter two:

Three days a week were four-hour lessons with Ms. Bole in all Hogwarts subjects. Each day had a reading hour with their mother, and then there were the lessons with Grandfather Arcturus about family history and wizarding politics, a weekend hunting lesson with their uncles, and finally an additional lesson twice a week about etiquette and dancing. It was only when Sirius spent the entire day speaking nothing but French that he could end his French lessons twice a week; otherwise he simply would have been left with no time in the week to practice with his new wand.

Sirius was well aware that students were not permitted to practice magic outside of school, but he saw no difference between learning magic with his governess and learning it on his own. He found that with his own wand, magic came much easier to him than it had in lessons with Ms. Bole. When his textbooks arrived by owl post two days later, Sirius made a list of all the spells that he hadn't covered with Ms. Bole and practiced them in the day room while Regulus watched on.

"You make it look so easy," Regulus commented one evening after dinner. Their father was entertaining their uncles in his private parlor, and Walburga had retired to her own quarters for the evening. Grandfather Arcturus was away on business, so this left Sirius and Regulus to get away with practicing magic a bit louder than they were used to.

"It's easier with your own wand," Sirius told him. "When you get yours, you'll see."

"Can I see it again?"

Sirius wasn't keen on handing over his brand new wand just yet, but he couldn't deny his brother, not when Regulus was struggling to fight his own jealousy. "Twelve and a half inches, elm, and dragon heartstring."

Regulus turned it over in between his fingers. It was a handsome wand, polished to a soft grey and finished with a square-shaped handle that sat well in the hand. He gave it a dramatic wave, and a shower of bright purple sparks shot out.

"Whoa, be careful," Sirius said quickly, taking the wand back from his brother.

When the Black brothers weren't busy in lessons most days a week, they took every opportunity to secretly practice magic with Sirius's new wand and dueling book. Regulus, being much younger, had a difficult time. They had to be careful not to damage the house or any of its belongings and occupants, however, and the dueling charms proved difficult to practice. Once or twice Sirius was sure Kreacher heard them, but if there was anything being a Black taught him, it was how to lie, even to someone as intimidating as the Black Matriarch.

"You are to mind yourselves," Walburga said threateningly to her two sons Saturday evening, as the Black family was congregating in the front landing. "If you step so much as a toe out of line and embarrass your family, I will curse you to within an inch of your lives." Her eyes lingered on Sirius as she said this; her eldest son had a knack for trouble she hoped the younger didn't learn. "You will speak only when spoken to. Understand?"

"Yes, Mother," said Sirius and Regulus in bored unison.

Their mother gave them a last warning look before turning to her husband. "Will your father be meeting us there?"

"He says when he and Pollux finish their business at the Ministry, they will join us, yes," said Orion distractedly, checking his watch.

"Are we keeping you from something?" Walburga asked. Her voice was neutral but her family knew better than to ignore the danger that represented.

"Of course not," said Orion, too weary to fight with his wife so early in the evening. "Shall we be on our way?"

Sirius took hold of his father's arm and had the unpleasant sensation of being yanked around before he suddenly found himself in the front entryway of Aunt Druella and Uncle Cygnus's estate. A split second later, his mother and brother joined them.

"Can I have the elf get you any refreshments?" came Aunt Druella's voice as she approached them from a side room.

"You two go into the garden," Walburga instructed her sons. "And do not make a mess of yourselves, I'm in no mind to take you back home to change."

Sirius and Regulus didn't need telling twice. Large family dinners were a stuffy affair, and irritatingly formal for an event in which everyone was already related. Even though the dinner was hosted by Aunt Druella on behalf of her youngest daughter, Walburga was sure to impress. No event could pass where she wasn't dressed in the finest silk robes and most expensive enchanted jewels.

"I hope Mother doesn't do this to us," Regulus said darkly once he and Sirius were in the safety of the back garden. The Black Estate at Eastbourne belonging to Aunt Druella and Uncle Cygnus was located on a handsome manicured lawn and decorated with fine gardens and an enormous enchanted fountain. It was here that Sirius and Regulus liked to hide, watching the spouts shoot birds, fish, and other animal-shaped jets of water.

"I doubt it, but we'll probably still have to go to Cousin Andromeda's when she gets betrothed," Sirius replied knowingly. "I don't think I'll ever get married—not if this is what I have to go through."

Regulus snorted at that. "Mother will make sure we both find wives so we can have sons."

"What, have you found yourself a girlfriend already?" came a new voice. Sirius and Regulus turned to see their second cousin, Evan Rosier, meander toward them. Evan was two years ahead of Sirius, and generally preferred to follow the elder Narcissa and Andromeda around.

"Don't be ridiculous," Sirius commented, sounding very much like Walburga.

"This is all very droll, don't you think?" Evan said, sitting down on the edge of the fountain and chucking stones into the water. "Everyone knows Cissy is going to marry that Malfoy fellow, so why go through all this?"

Sirius shrugged. "All I know is that when I marry, there will be no silly dinner parties every other week."

Evan chuckled darkly at that. "Sirius, the only way Aunt Walburga _wouldn't _insist on the most expensive parties for you is if you insisted on marrying a mudblood—"

"You're not supposed to say that," said Regulus quietly.

"What, 'mudblood'? Father says it all the time," said Evan bravely. "And so does your Father, and even your Mother."

"Perhaps in the privacy of their smoking parlor, but certainly not among company," Sirius said, remembering the stern talking-to Aunt Lucretia had given him when she caught Sirius using the word one day.

"Well, if the Black heir has such a _fondness _for dirty blood—"

"I do not," Sirius interrupted, annoyed.

"You do, too," Evan teased meanly. "You love muggles—you love dirty blood—"

"Kreacher has been sent to fetch Masters."

The boys stopped their bickering and turned to see the Black family elf in a ridiculously low bow.

"Mistress says the boys must come inside," Kreacher said to the ground.

Sirius shot Evan an annoyed look before leading the way back into the house. Aunt Druella's House-Elf was busy lighting candles in the formal dining room, and Kreacher ran past them to assist in the kitchen.

"…for bringing your Elf over, it is such a relief on my Minny. She is getting rather old, you know. We may need to consider replacing her," Aunt Druella's voice carried out from the tea parlor nearby.

Sirius, Regulus, and Evan lined up outside the formal dining room, where the men were all gathered, talking. Among them was Lucius Malfoy, who—at fifteen—really should be considered more child than man. Yet it was custom among the Sacred Twenty-Eight to plan marriage prospects from the moment of a child's birth, and it wasn't unheard of for engagements to occur when the couple were still school-aged. Bellatrix, for example, married only a few months out of Hogwarts. Lucius was accompanied by his equally blonde father, Abraxus. Abraxus Malfoy worked with Grandfather Arcturus and Grandfather Pollux at the Ministry, and had a formidable reputation.

The men filed into the dining room—Walburga and Druella had long since forced everyone to memorize their appropriate seats at the table. Arcturus and Pollux were seated at either end; immediate to Arcturus's right sat Orion and Walburga, and to his left sat Alphard and the Rosiers. In the middle were Bellatrix and her husband Rodolphus, Andromeda, Sirius and Regulus, Narcissa, Evan, and then came the Malfoys on the left, before finally ending in Cygnus and Druella on Pollux's right. As Uncle Cyngus was the owner of the house, it normally fell to him to sit at the table's head, but Walburga insisted to Druella that the two eldest members of the house could not possibly sit in the middle with the children.

As a result, Sirius was placed squarely in the middle next to Narcissa, and across them sat Regulus and Malfoy. Sirius was sure this was a deliberate ploy of his mother's; Narcissa was the highlight of the evening, but the Black hair should never leave the center of attention.

It was a full seven-course meal, an anomaly even among the Blacks. This dinner was deliberately crafted to impress the Malfoys, although Sirius once overheard his mother mention that it was the _Malfoys _who should be pleased to be joining the Black line. The meal began with a light salad comprised of Merlin knew what—some odd plants Sirius had never seen before. Following this was a thick soup served in what looked like oversized tea cups, and then came large plates with single oysters. Sirius strongly preferred a basic three or four course meal that actually consisted of _food, _not this silly display of bite-sized dishes served back-to-back, but knew this whole dinner was less about the meal and more about Aunt Druella's ability to impress (with Walburga whispering in her ear, of course).

Sirius was careful to mind his table manners, listening to his Grandfather Arcturus debate politics with Orion and Alphard. The dominant conversation at the table—shared between Walburga, Druella, Hesper Rosier, and Violetta Malfoy—comprised of society gossip that Sirius wasn't interested in. Supposedly the Prince daughter was divorcing her scandalous muggle husband.

"…those Squibs attempting to regroup and resume their god-awful rioting," Arcturus was saying.

"Well, after the Squib Riots of the 60's, anyone participating will surely find themselves in front of the Wizengamot, if not Azkaban," Uncle Alphard replied.

"Not with Nobby Leach coming out in full support of the movement," Orion countered, taking a sip of wine. "After being shamed out of the position of Minister, he's taken to standing among the very group responsible for his unfortunate departure from government."

Arcturus snorted. "Unfortunate? The only thing unfortunate is that a mudlbood was elected Minister at all—"

"There are enough sympathizers within the Ministry that will make it difficult quieting Nobby Leach," Orion said. "With all the controversy surrounding his departure, no one wants to say anything about Squibs in general."

"Rightly so," said Arcturus forcefully. "They're not worth talking about—no, the big issue in the Wizengamot is all this werewolf legislation. That Lyall Lupin's getting money somewhere—why else would he completely change his stance on werewolves?"

"He's the one who wanted to register and monitor them, isn't he?" Uncle Alphard asked.

"And the primary author of all werewolf legislation passed in 1962!" Arcturus exclaimed. "And now he's trying to come out and argue that werewolves are still humans—as if that's not an oxymoron right there. He wants to let these werewolves work for full wages and attend school. Could you imagine a werewolf at Hogwarts?"

"That headmaster's just crazy enough to let one in, I imagine," spoke up Rodolphus Lestrange, who had been listening to the conversation with rapt attention. "You know he still has that half-giant oaf running around the grounds?"

"That school's going straight to hell—"

"Then why allow Sirius to attend?" Alphard asked, shooting his nephew in question a wink over the table before turning back to Arcturus.

"Beauxbatons is too soft, and Walburga thinks Durmstrang is too far," Orion answered quietly, glancing sideways at his wife to make sure she was still engaged in her gossip. "Besides, some families must set the example and keep up the traditions before Hogwarts starts letting muggles in to learn as well."

Their appetizers were removed from the table, and suddenly the main course appeared on their plates. Grateful for some real food at last, Sirius had to fight the urge to dig in immediately.

"…and apparently her bastard son received an acceptance letter," Druella was saying to the witches at the table. "Although it remains to be seen if the boy's muggle heritage doesn't sully his magical ability."

"Of course it will," said Violetta Malfoy. "The boy may still perform magic, but it will be nowhere near the level he might have achieved had Eileen Prince kept her engagement to Edward Crouch. Her blood purity was her only asset—her looks certainly would not have given her a respectable marriage."

"She was the last of the Prince line, was she not?" Narcissa asked.

"In the direct line, yes," answered her mother. "The name continues through her cousin, Marius Prince, although it is not likely it will endure there either—the word is that Marius is actually a homosexual—"

Walburga quieted her sister-in-law at the scandalized gasps from the women, but then added, "Of course he is—why else would he be a bachelor at forty?"

"And Alphard?" Druella whispered, raising her eyebrows at her brother-in-law down the table.

Walburga pursed her lips but was saved the trouble of answering when Pollux suddenly joined the political debate on the other end of the table.

"Of course he is!" he all but shouted, pointing his fork at Arcturus. Pollux was thin and narrow, with thick eyebrows and jet black hair in spite of his advanced age. His cousin Arcturus, on the other hand, was broad shouldered with a heavily-lined face, and kept his silvery hair and beard cropped very short. "I doubt it was money that changed Lupin's mind—Fenrir Greyback was involved, I'm sure of it."

"Father," said Walburga pointedly, stopping mid-gossip to glower at the men in the room. "Perhaps you can save the political debate for the smoking parlor."

"Yes, dear, and meanwhile you ladies may regale us with gossip better left to your private tea hours," Pollux replied. His tone was stern, but Walburga was his favorite child and he loved to tease her.

The remainder of dinner passed in unremarkable boredom; Sirius had to fight the temptation to slip itching powder into Lucius Malfoy's robes again. Now that he had a wand and would be attending school, Walburga's punishments would be far more severe, and a practical joke was not worth the risk.

Once dinner was over, the ladies retired to play cards while the men—Lucius included—headed for the smoking room. Sirius got up to follow Regulus to their cousins' childhood play room, but Orion called him back.

"Come along, Sirius."

Stunned at his good fortune at being invited to join the men for after-dinner activities, Sirius hurried down the hallway, leaving Regulus alone with Evan Rosier.

The smoking room at Eastbourne resembled the one at Grimmauld Place, although it was noticeably smaller, and furnished very delicately. There was certainly a lady's touch in the choice of décor, very unlike the neat masculine lines of Grimmauld Place. Sirius followed his father to the far corner of the room, where Orion withdrew a small velvet box from his coat pocket.

Sirius opened it up excitedly, and inside was an ornate silver ring with a large onyx stone and the family crest engraved onto either side. The filigree band was wide, almost too wide for Sirius's narrow fingers.

"You'll grow into it soon enough," Orion told him. "We had it made for you—your dear mother wanted to wait until your birthday in December, but I thought you ought to have it as a farewell present."

Sirius placed the ring over his index finger—the only one it fit on—and examined it carefully in the light.

"This way there will be no mistaking you for anything less than a Black," Orion said proudly. "And it will serve as a reminder of the family you come from—of the blood that runs in your veins. Secondly," he added, withdrawing a second object, this time from his trouser pocket. "A little gift from me."

It was an ornate silver tie pin, delicately shaped into the form of a serpent. "It's not up to the dress code at school, but if you wear it under your robes no one should notice," Orion told him. "It was my own when I was in school."

Sirius unbuttoned his cashmere sweater and slipped the pin on. It glinted brilliantly in the candlelight. He looked up at his normally-stern father, grinning widely. "Thank you."

Orion—like Walburga—was not prone to gestures of affection, but did offer Sirius a rare wink. He clasped a strong hand over Sirius's shoulder, leading him back across the room. "Go on and keep your brother out of trouble—or should I say he should keep you out of trouble?"

"I haven't done anything!" said Sirius quickly.

"Not yet, but I'm aware of your predilection for Itching Powder at these dinner events."

Sirius gave his father a guilty smile before darting out of the smoking parlor. He found Regulus and Evan sitting in Cissy's old playroom, both looking incredibly bored.

"Let's do something," said Evan when he saw Sirius.

"Like what?"

A wicked grin split across Evan's face. "I've got some dungbombs—"

"No," interrupted Sirius. "We can't—my Mother will kill us—"

"It's no worse than that prank you pulled on Malfoy last time," said Evan defensively. "At least the smell of dungbombs can be washed out, not like that crap you put in Malfoy's robes—"

"Not tonight, Evan," said Sirius dully. In truth, he would have loved to play a prank, but he didn't want to incite Walburga's wrath. He could handle a beating, even a few Stinging Hexes, but the last thing Sirius was willing to risk was having his wand confiscated. No doubt that would be high on Walburga's list of punishments.

Evan flopped back on the davenport dramatically. "You two are so boring."

* * *

><p>Sirius didn't sleep at all that last night. He packed and re-packed his belongings, practicing the packing spell he had seen his mother use at times. He had a set of clothes laid out for the journey to Hogwarts, a simple pair of black trousers and an emerald cashmere sweater. Set delicately on top was the Black family ring his parents had given Sirius, and the silver tie pin from his father.<p>

Finally when he heard the breakfast bell chime, Sirius bolted out his door and hurried down the flights of stairs to the breakfast room, not caring that his footsteps echoed loudly throughout the sleepy house. His father was already there, dressed in a velvet dressing robe and a pair of spectacles he only used for reading. Regulus appeared shortly thereafter, followed lastly by their mother.

"I do hope you're packed and ready to go," she told Sirius by way of good morning.

"I've double-checked everything," Sirius replied, fidgeting excitedly in his seat. He almost knocked the tea pot out of Kreacher's hand while the elf attempted to fill his cup. "Oh—er, sorry—"

"Don't apologize to him," said Walburga, shaking her head. "He's just the House Elf. What does he care?"

Sirius shoved a piece of toast in his mouth, too excited to eat anything more substantial. His joy was infectious, and even Walburga's normally acerbic temperament lightened. Once the family had finished their breakfast, Sirius hurried back upstairs to bathe and dress. He took care to comb his hair into place, and slipped the silver tie pin on underneath his sweater. The Black Family ring sat proudly on his right hand, and Sirius had to resist the urge to drag all of his school things down to the first floor himself.

"Kreacher will get your things, there's no need to fret," Walburga reprimanded him without any real conviction. She was dressed in a modest skirt and fine silk blouse, the only muggle clothes she owned. Her dark hair was neatly pinned up, and her fingers were covered in her best rings. Taking one's child to the Hogwarts Express for the first time was very much like a witch or wizard's "coming out" in society, and Walburga made sure her family was dressed for the part.

Orion Black had arranged for Ministry cars to transport them to King's Cross Station—it was too burdensome to travel by Apparition with school trunks and owl cages in tow. Sirius followed his parents to the waiting cars, grinning widely at Regulus.

The Black Family home was located in the heart of London, and so it took nearly twenty minutes of traffic before they reached King's Cross. The drivers loaded Sirius's school things onto a trolley as Kreacher couldn't come with them to do it, and Orion and Walburga couldn't be bothered. The Black family navigated their way through the crowded station before reaching the space between platforms nine and ten.

Sirius watched as another family—also dressed in muggle clothes, though Sirius noticed theirs were not nearly as fine—disappeared through the brick barrier.

"Sirius, you shall go first with your father," Walburga dictated.

Orion gave Sirius a small wink—a rare gesture of affection—and led his eldest son to the barrier. "Simply lean against it like so—"

Before he was quite aware of it happening, Sirius suddenly found himself on the other side. Platform 9 ¾ was crowded with wizarding families and school trunks. Owls screeched and hooted, and a few cats were slinking in between their owners' legs. Walburga and Regulus appeared moments later, and Orion led everyone to an empty section of platform near the middle of the train. Almost immediately Walburga and Orion were engaged in conversation with the Malfoys, who were accompanied by Aunt Druella and two of her daughters, Andromeda and Narcissa.

"I'll write you as soon as I get there," Sirius promised Regulus. "I'll tell you all about it—"

"I have to wait two more years," said Regulus miserably. "My birthday isn't until June."

"…can't sit with us, we're expected to be in the Prefect's Compartment—"

"And not you, Andromeda?"

"My compartment's already full, I'm afraid."

Sirius looked up at his parents, and saw that everyone was watching him with an odd expression. "What?"

"We were just discussing where you will sit on the train, but your cousins are unavailable," said Walburga. "No matter, what families are starting Hogwarts this year?"

"The Potters have a son," supplied Aunt Druella.

Walburga gave a distasteful cluck of her tongue. "I should think not. My dear cousin may have had the sense to marry a pureblood, but she ought to have chosen one more loyal to his blood."

"The Longbottoms have a son in third year," Narcissa spoke up. "And there are the Prewetts, but their daughter is a Sixth Year and it may not be suitable for her and Sirius to sit together."

"Why not?" Sirius asked, frowning.

Narcissa gave a high-pitched chuckle, raising a few pale fingers to cover her mouth.

"Because it would look like a courtship, and wouldn't be proper," Andromeda muttered to him. "Not without friends from both sides present."

"It's not that big of a deal, is it?" Sirius asked his family. They all looked at him silently.

"It does not reflect well on the young Prewett girl to be seen alone with a male," Walburga finally said. "And as the heir to the Black family, you must not give the wrong impression."

"Can he sit with Rabastan?" Aunt Druella asked. "The Lestranges are about to become family."

Sirius resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The Lestranges and Blacks had been inter-marrying for centuries; it was too late to "join the family."

"I can ask," said Narcissa, looking around the platform. "Although I am not certain where he is—"

"It's okay, I'll just find a compartment with some Slytherins," said Sirius, getting tired of being talked about like he wasn't there. "I ought to get to know the members of my future House anyway, so now seems like as good an opportunity as any."

Walburga didn't look convinced, but the others relented.

"Very well," she said. "Write to us when you get there, of course—and don't be tempted to stay at the school for the Christmas holiday, you are to come home."

"If you need anything be sure to let us know," Orion added. Aunt Druella was busy ushering her own daughters onto the train now, and the Malfoys were bidding farewell to their only son, Lucius.

Sirius watched as several parents were hugging and kissing their children good-bye, and found it rather odd. It wasn't as though the families would be separated forever. A three and a half month parting did not warrant such a dramatic display of emotion. Sirius bid his parents farewell; Regulus gently shoved Sirius's arm and Sirius shoved him back. The train whistle blew to signal that it would be departing soon, and Sirius—owl cage in one hand and trunk in the other—boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time.

Most of the compartments were filled with faces he didn't recognize, full of chatting students who were all older than himself. Finally, after several cars had proved full, Sirius found a compartment with a red-headed girl that looked to be about his age. He probably should have stuck to his promise about searching out Slytherins, but his school trunk was heavy and he wanted to just sit down.

"May I join you?" he asked.

The girl, staring gloomily out the window, just shrugged in response. Sirius sighed inwardly, taking it as a very impolite "yes," and sat down. Sure the girl was not going to introduce herself, Sirius decided to leave her alone and debated if he should pull out one of his school books for something to do. Before he could make up his mind about which one, the compartment door slid open and a rather wild-haired boy with dark horn-rimmed glasses appeared.

"Mind if I join you lot? All the compartments are full."

"Not at all," Sirius offered politely.

The boy grinned widely at that. He let his trunk drop loudly to the floor before holding out a hand to Sirius. "Name's James."

"Sirius."

"Huh?"

"Like the star?"

"Oh, right," said James unconvincingly. He loaded his trunk onto the rack next to Sirius's and plopped down on the seat across from him. He fidgeted in his seat, running his hands over either side of his face before stealing a glance at the redhead, who was still ignoring them. He turned to Sirius with a questioning look. Sirius merely shrugged. "What year are you?" the boy asked.

"First."

"Me too," said James, grinning again. His happy demeanor was infectious, and Sirius relaxed. James had the look of being well cared-for, and Sirius wondered why he hadn't seen the boy at any of the parties his family attended. Unless, of course, the boy was muggle-born. Sirius fought back the thought; his parents couldn't get angry with him if they weren't here to see him socializing with muggle-borns or half-bloods.

"I'm afraid I don't really know anyone in our year," Sirius supplied. "My cousins are all much older, and I doubt whether they would be seen with a First Year, even if it is family."

James shrugged. "I'm not worried. I'm sure we'll make friends soon enough—imagine how hard it'll be for muggle-borns, who don't know anything about magic. Wait, are you muggle-born?"

"No, I'm a pureblood."

"Right, then you already know all the important stuff—I'm sure your family's told you all about Hogwarts."

Before Sirius could reply, the compartment door slid open again, and a dark-haired, rather lanky boy appeared. He stopped dead at the sight of Sirius, and the two boys stared at each other for a split second before the newcomer sat down on the seat across from the girl. Sirius recognized the boy as Severus Snape, and though he had never actually spoken to him, Snape had a reputation for a sour and quick temperament. Snape's mother, a pureblooded Prince, had run off with a muggle and caused quite a scandal. The redhead glanced at Snape before turning back out the window miserably. "I don't want to talk to you."

"Why not?"

"T-Tuney hates me. Because we saw that letter from Dumbledore."

Sirius turned back to James. "What class do you think you'll like best? My governess gave my brother and me lessons in all our subjects, but I'm rather fond of Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Your governess?" James repeated, grinning. "What kind of family did you come from?"

Sirius frowned, suddenly self-conscious. This boy had come from a magical family and looked reasonably well-dressed, and had no idea what a governess was? "A governess? A teacher?"

James waved a hand. "Nah, my mum taught me. I don't know about classes, really—I'm just excited for Quidditch! It's a shame they don't let First Years on the team—"

"You'd better be in Slytherin," Snape was saying.

James turned to look at the lanky boy, frowning. "Slytherin? Who'd want to be in Slytherin? I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" he said, turning to look at Sirius with amusement on his face.

Sirius hesitated, unsure how to respond. On one hand he was sure to end up in Slytherin and associate with the friends of his cousins, but this was the first boy Sirius had met that he genuinely liked. "My whole family have been in Slytherin," he said at last, as though that settled the matter.

The boy looked stunned. "Blimey, and I thought you seemed all right!"

Sirius grinned in spite of himself. "Maybe I'll break the tradition," he said before he could stop himself. "Where are you heading, if you've got the choice?"

James pretended to wield a sword. "Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!" he announced proudly. He straightened up. "Just like my dad."

The boy next to them gave a sort of derisive snort. James and Sirius turned to look at him again.

"Got a problem with that?" James challenged.

"No," he said. His tone was sure, but there was something about his frail shoulders slumping inwards that made the boy look rather weak. Sirius was instantly irritated at the boy's lack of decorum, even if he was a half-blood. "If you'd rather be brawny than brainy—"

"Where're you hoping to go, seeing as you're neither?" Sirius asked coolly. In the back of his mind was his mother's voice. _Never forget your place, lest they forget theirs. _What made someone like Snape so sure he could speak to him like that?

James let out a roar of laughter. The red-headed girl turned to glare at them.

"Come on, Severus. Let's find another compartment."

"Oooooo," said James, imitating the girl's lofty voice. He held out a foot to trip Snape.

The compartment door slammed shut.

"I forgot he was starting this year," Sirius said aloud, more to himself than to James.

"You know him?"

"His name's Severus Snape," Sirius supplied. "This is the first time I've spoken to him, but his reputation precedes him."

"He's that one whose mum ran off with some drunk muggle, right?"

"Just before she would have been engaged to the Crouches, if you can believe it," Sirius supplied. "Threw away a perfectly respectable marriage for nothing."

"Hopefully you don't end up in Slytherin, 'cause otherwise you'll be stuck with him. Might even have to be bunk mates," James teased.

Sirius gave a half-hearted chuckle. "So you follow Quidditch, then?" he asked, deliberately changing the subject away from Houses.

James's eyes lit up. "Of course I follow Quidditch! Who doesn't?" This started a long-winded commentary on the best teams in Europe. Sirius was familiar with the sport and enjoyed watching the games with his family, but had never invested much energy into learning the specific team members or their training. James seemed to know everything about the subject.

The two boys were left alone for the remainder of the journey to Hogsmede Station. Sirius bought them both lunch from the trolley cart that came through, but James wouldn't be one-upped and got them a pile of chocolate frogs shortly thereafter. Finally, when the scenery grew too dark to see and the windows resembled mirrors, Sirus and James pulled on their school robes. Sirius was following the throng of students onto the platform when he suddenly heard his name called.

Narcissa was waving him over, a bored-looking Lucius Malfoy in tow.

"You know them?" James asked with distaste. "I've heard that Malfoy's a right prat."

"Narcissa is my cousin," Sirius said.

"Your cousin? You're not a Rosier," said James, frowning.

"No, my surname is Black," Sirius replied, holding up a finger to his impatient cousin to signal that he would be over in a moment.

"A _Black?" _James repeated incredulously. "That's a whole other pen of Hippogriffs than 'my whole family's in Slytherin'! Right, well…you'll probably keep family tradition, then, if you're a Black Good luck in Slytherin."

Before Sirius could reply, the crowd pushed forward and James disappeared in it. Sirius couldn't go looking for him, however, and instead made his way against the masses toward his cousin.

"After the Sorting, come sit with us," Narcissa told him. "We sit in the middle, against the wall, in case you can't find us. Everyone starts to look the same in their school robes."

"Er, thanks," said Sirius half-heartedly. He was still stunned—and a little hurt—by James's unpleasant reaction to discovering his surname.

"Look for that great oaf Hagrid," Lucius told him. "He always takes the First Years to the castle. We will see you inside if you don't drown." With that, Lucius steered Narcissa away toward the carriages, leaving Sirius alone. Most of the students were already leaving the platform, and Sirius hurried across the lane toward a throng of First Years huddled around the lake's edge.

His parents had told him all about the boat ride up to the castle, of course. Sirius chose a seat at random, not bothering to pay attention to who else was in his boat. He sat in gloomy silence while Hagrid told them random facts about Hogwarts that Sirius already knew. As the boats rounded a corner, an enormous, glittering castle was suddenly in full view on the edge of a cliff. Countless towers rose up toward the dark sky, and enormous battlements protruded from the walls. A fire seemed to burn in all of the windows, and Hogwarts school looked like a constellation of its very own. Sirius felt his heart stop at the sight of the school, the place he had been dreaming of since he could remember.

"There's four Houses," Hagrid was saying, his booming voice carrying over the otherwise silent water. "An' yeh get Sorted your first night into one of 'em."

The boats approached the cliff face and passed under a thick curtain of ivy before disappearing into a dimly-lit underground harbor. Students filed out uneasily as their boats docked, squishing themselves against the rough natural walls of the cave so that everyone could fit.

"Thank you, Hagrid," said a stern female voice. "I will take them from here."

Sirius turned to see a tall, rather serious-looking witch dressed in emerald robes. "My name is Professor McGonagall. I am the Deputy Headmistress as well as the Transfiguration teacher. If you will all follow me," she announced loudly. "I will lead you inside to the Sorting Ceremony and Welcoming Feast."

The students may have ranged from muggle-born to pureblood, but they all wore equal expressions of awe and excitement as McGonagall led them through the cave and into the school. The dungeons seemed impressive enough, but the entrance hall was a different world entirely. The ceiling rose up at least thirty feet, and dozen enormous iron chandeliers hung overhead. The torches lining the walls burned brightly, and in between them were countless moving portraits, their occupants travelling freely between frames.

McGonagall didn't stop to let the new First Years marvel, however, and made an abrupt left turn toward a set of handsome double doors that led to an even more handsome hall.

"This is the Great Hall," McGonagall told them. "This is where you will eat all your meals and gather in the event that the Headmaster wishes to address the whole school. You will see four tables inside, not including the staff table—each table is comprised of the four Houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. You will eat, sleep, and study with the members of your House, and have the opportunity to earn points toward the end-of-year House cup. Good performance will earn your House points, and bad behavior will lose them. I believe they are ready for us, so follow me."

Sirius's heart was pounding furiously against his chest. His limbs felt electrified with excitement. The thought of the boy on the train was now in the far back corner of his mind.

McGonagall led the First Years into the Hall, just behind a single three-legged stool upon which was perched a rather shabby-looking wizard's hat. Sirius knew what to expect, and was one of the few students who didn't jump in fright when the hat suddenly burst into song. And then, barely five minutes later, McGonagall cleared her throat loudly and called out the first student to be sorted.

"Avery, Dominic!"

A pale boy Sirius knew only by name stepped forward and sat squarely on the stool. McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat over his head, which was entirely too big and obscured his eyes completely.

"Slytherin!" the hat shouted. The table on the far left burst into applause, and Avery grinned widely as he went to go join them.

"Bigglesworth, Dawn!"

Sirius's heart rate quickened as his name drew alarmingly closer. He clapped distractedly as Dawn Bigglesworth went to join the Hufflepuff table, and then suddenly it was his turn.

"Black, Sirius!"

Sirius stepped forward, suddenly aware of everyone's eyes on him. He sat down gingerly on the stool, and McGonagall placed the hat over his head.

"My, another Black!" the Hat suddenly said. Sirius wasn't sure if it was speaking aloud or if the voice was somehow inside of his head. He had been under the impression the hat only sang and called out House names. "Yet you're not just another Black. Such an interesting surprise…"

Sirius fidgeted, wondering when the Hat would call out Slytherin.

"No, no," came the Hat's disembodied voice. "There's a better House for you—"

Then, before Sirius could really register what the Hat had just said, a voice rang out loud and clear for all to hear.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

* * *

><p><em>Please review!<em>


	3. A Black in Gryffindor

Chapter three:

There was stunned silence as the Hat was removed. Sirius looked around the Great Hall anxiously; every pair of eyes were transfixed on him. Several students were whispering to each other, and those who had the wrong blood to understand the gravity of the situation looked uneasy at the silence. Finally, though it can't have been more than a few seconds later, a loud cacophony of applause and cheers erupted from the Gryffindor table.

"Up you get," McGonagall murmured, nudging Sirius forward.

He looked over at the Slytherin table and found the stunned faces of his cousins. Andromeda gave him a small encouraging wave while Narcissa's mouth hung open, her expression matching how Sirius felt. Next to her, Narcissa's blonde boyfriend looked like he was trying not to laugh. The table was watching him as though Sirius had suddenly sprouted another head.

Sirius almost tripped, and turned his head to look at where he was going. A few Gryffindors adjusted themselves to make room for him on the bench, clapping Sirius on the back.

"Well, that was unexpected!" said the nearest one, a brown-haired teen Sirius didn't know. "A Black in Gryffindor!"

Sirius unstuck his throat. "The first in six generations," he said weakly.

The Sorting continued on, but Sirius didn't hear. He didn't necessarily think his parents would disown him over his Sorting, though they would certainly be furious. Blacks made it into Ravenclaw once in a while, but not for the last three generations. Sirius was sure there hadn't been a Gryffindor in the direct line since Antares Black, nearly two hundred years before.

His parents would play it down, of course. Twist the Sorting in a way that made the Black heir look best. "Oh, well, we consider it rather lucky that the family heir is blessed with such a vivacious personality! No doubt when Sirius comes of age, he will be a most excellent young man, blessed with all the necessary qualities needed in heading the family," his mother might say to their cousins over tea. But inside they would be fuming at the embarrassment. It would have been so much easier if Sirius had just been Sorted into Slytherin.

Sirius looked up to see a familiar red-head searching for a seat, and instinctively moved over. Their eyes locked, and Sirius recognized her as the girl from the train. She gave Sirius a sour look and continued on down the table.

Sirius tried not to listen as other familiar, pureblood names were sorted into Slytherin. Sirius wondered if he should write his parents tonight and head them off; no doubt his cousin Narcissa would beat him to the punch if he waited until morning.

"Potter, James!"

Sirius looked up at the name, and watched the boy from the train step forward. The Hat barely touched his head before it yelled, "Gryffindor!"

Sirius joined in the applause for the first time that night, albeit half-heartedly. He watched James run toward the table, and almost hoped the boy would sit next to him. They had gotten along on the train, and it wasn't until James learned Sirius's family name that he went quiet. Maybe none of that would matter, since they were both in Gryffindor. Sirius's parents certainly couldn't be upset by the friendship—the Potters may not be high in society, but they were at least pure.

But James hurried past him without so much as a glance, choosing a seat among some older students he seemed to recognize, grinning widely. Sirius tried to fight the crestfallen feeling threatening to overwhelm him.

"Snape, Severus!"

Even that half-blooded git made it into Slytherin.

Finally the Sorting concluded, but Sirius was too busy trying not to look too closely at his family on the other side of the Hall to pay any attention to Dumbledore's opening speech. He didn't even realize it right away when the plates in front of them suddenly filled with food, and the dark-skinned boy next to him nudged him gently. Sirius looked up and saw the silver Head Boy badge on his school robes.

Sirius ate in gloomy silence. Once or twice he tried to follow along in a conversation, hoping to join in, but there was little opportunity. These Gryffindors discussed mostly Quidditch, and while Sirius was a fan of the sport, he didn't know enough about it to offer anything to the conversation.

Finally, dinner was over. Sirius had barely made it halfway through his first course, and never touched dessert. The teachers excused everyone to bed, and Sirius watched all the students get to their feet. He would not be sleeping in the Slytherin dormitories, of which he had heard so much. Instead he would have to memorize the route to some foreign part of the castle to a Common Room in which he didn't belong.

"Come on," said the Head Boy, gesturing for Sirius to follow. "The Prefects will show you the way to your dormitory."

Sirius got to his feet, his legs feeling rather stiff. Head down, hoping to attract the least amount of looks possible, Sirius tried to blend in among the other First Year Gryffindors. He might as well have been trying to disappear in a room of Kneazles for all the good it did. Sirius was almost a head taller than most of the other new students, and his school robes were the only ones custom-made out of fine silk. Everyone else was dressed in the same linen stock sold at Madam Malkin's.

_An ostensible display of wealth._

Sirius recalled the uncomfortable altercation between his mother and the Mulciber matriarch, and felt his face flush. Surely his mother had to have known that Sirius would stand out like a sore thumb in such expensive robes.

In spite of his grief, Sirius was still awed by the corridors they passed: talking portraits, moving staircases, enormous enchanted windows. The Prefect leading them pointed out the classrooms they walked past, gave a heads-up on the random patterns of the fifth-floor staircases, and which secret passageways would lead directly to the first floor. Sirius had heard countless stories of Hogwarts, of course—but it was so much different seeing it for himself.

They had reached the seventh floor now, and the Prefect led them down a long corridor toward an enormous portrait at the end. "This is the Fat Lady," the Prefect announced to the First Year students. "She guards the entrance to Gryffindor Tower—you must have the right password in order to get in."

The common room was situated in a wide, circular tower. There were two small fire places on one side, a spiral staircase directly overhead, and an enormous hearth immediately to their left. The room was crammed with comfortable-looking scarlet couches and chairs. The rugs were trimmed in gold thread, and the window was at least ten feet tall. Overhead hung four chandeliers covered in dried wax, illuminating the otherwise dim common room.

"Girls on the left, boys on the right," the Prefect continued when everyone had filed inside. "Breakfast is at eight o'clock sharp, so make sure you aren't late if you want to get your class schedules!"

Sirius caught sight of James making a beeline for the staircase, and gradually the students followed suit, eager to see their dormitories and get to bed.

The First Year dorm was on the third level. Inside were four heavy oak beds, complete with scarlet hangings that matched those over the enormous windows. In the center of the room stood a small fireplace; old relics from the previous school year were still on the mantle. Sirius found his trunk on the far side of the room and sat down on the edge of it. James was already unpacking, his belongings scattered haphazardly over his four-poster. Two other boys joined them, a thin brunette and a rather short sandy-haired boy. Sirius smiled weakly at them both, and they made their way to their own beds.

"Can you believe it?" The sandy-haired one spoke up suddenly, sounding completely stunned. "Gryffindor! _Gryffindor!"_

Sirius's heart skipped a beat and he straightened up, sure that everyone in the room would suddenly tell him that he didn't belong.

"I thought for sure I'd get Hufflepuff, if any of them," he continued, and Sirius relaxed a hair. "Mum's going to die of shock."

His brown-haired companion smiled while James added proudly, "My dad was a Gryffindor and Mum in Ravenclaw."

"I think mine will just be glad I was Sorted at all," laughed the brunette.

"What about you?"

Sirius looked up and realized that the sandy-haired boy had directed this question to him.

"Oh. Er, no, my family's all been in Slytherin. I'm the first Gryffindor in almost two-hundred years."

There was an awkward silence. James was careful to avoid looking at him.

"How does that work?" the sandy-haired boy finally asked, open confusion on his face.

"Most people end up in the same houses as their parents, but it doesn't have to be," chimed in the other helpfully. "My dad was in Ravenclaw, for example."

Sirius tried to smile at him, but wasn't sure if he could make his face move.

"I'm Remus Lupin, by the way. What's your name?" he continued, a friendly look on his face.

"Sirius Black."

The other boy laughed loudly. Everyone looked at him.

"S—sorry," he said quickly, clearing his throat and trying to hide the mirth from his face. "But isn't that hilarious?"

"Why is that funny?" Remus asked, clearly not understanding.

"Well, he's a Black," said the other as though that explained everything. "They're an old Pureblood family with a certain, well, reputation."

"What he's saying is that he believes my family to be Dark wizards, sympathizing with the likes of Grindelwald," said Sirius curtly, and suddenly the air grew stiff. The laughter was wiped right off the other boy's face. "That is it, isn't it? That's why it's so amusing to think their heir was sorted sideways into Gryffindor."

Sirius pulled off his school robes but didn't bother changing into his PJ's. Instead he grabbed some parchment and a quill, and sat down roughly on the edge of his bed. He had to write this letter tonight, to give his parents a chance to head off all the inquiring owls from distant family that would no doubt start swooping in. There was several minutes of awkward silence that Sirius tried to ignore.

The other boy ended up introducing himself as Peter Pettigrew, but Sirius didn't pay any attention to the remainder of their conversation. He had achieved a _Dear Mother and Father, _and that was about it. Should he try to explain the situation, or just come out and say it? Or maybe he could petition Dumbledore to let him switch Houses…

Peter and James soon fell asleep, and their loud snores drowned out the sound of the crackling fire. Sirius knew it was very late, but he wouldn't be able to sleep until he sent this letter off.

"Can't sleep either?"

It was Remus.

Sirius hesitated, wondering if he should tell the boy to mind his own business or not. But Remus had been the only kind face in his dormitory, and it was better not to make unnecessary enemies. "I'm trying to write a letter," he finally said. "Only I don't know what to say."

"To your parents?" Remus guessed.

Sirius nodded.

"Will they be very upset that you're not in Slytherin?" he asked carefully.

Sirius gave a sort of dark chuckle. "That's a rather light way of putting it, but yes. The best I can hope for is simply cold disappointment."

There was a moment of silence, then Remus spoke up again. "Are…are you upset by it?"

Sirius looked up at him sharply. "What do you mean?"

Remus shrugged. "How do _you _feel about it?"

Sirius didn't answer right away. He was mortified, of course. It was an embarrassment for the Black heir to end up anywhere but Slytherin. Distant cousins might Sort into Ravenclaw from time to time, but that was excusable. Sirius would inherit the family's titles, estates, and wealth, and it was well-known from his birth that he would follow in his father's footsteps. He would be the joke of the family to end up anywhere but Slytherin. "I guess I never really expected to end up anywhere else," he finally decided, not quite answering the question. "My cousins were supposed to introduce me to their social connections. My Father even had this made," he added, pulling out a silver tie clip in the shape of an embossed serpent. "A pity now, don't you think?"

Remus didn't smile. Instead he sat down on the other side of Sirius's trunk. "I don't know anyone in Gryffindor, either," he said. "Or the entire school, really," he added. "So you're welcome to sit with me at meals and classes, if you like."

Sirius looked up at Remus. The Lupin family were not pure, and especially not high in society. His parents would be furious to know that he was willingly associating with someone so far beneath his standing. It was almost kind of a joke that Remus was so naïve that he thought it was acceptable for their separate social classes to mix so casually. And if he had any hope of saving face, then he would have to toe the line of blood purity very carefully. "That's kind of you," Sirius finally decided. "But I think that would just enrage my family even more."

The boy nodded his understanding and stood up without looking at Sirius. "Okay," he said over his shoulder. "Er, well…have a good night then." With that he disappeared behind his hangings.

Sirius turned back to the blank letter in front of him, suddenly overwhelmed. He almost wanted to apologize to the Remus boy, to make him understand, but Blacks never apologized or explained themselves. They had absolute control over their feelings. Sirius felt a stinging pressure behind his eyes, but fought it back. His mother's voice was in his head. _Blacks do not do something as uncivilized as openly weep. _

He had years of practice in magic, etiquette, and general knowledge in order to make the Black family proud when he reached Hogwarts. He had the finest robes, the best social standing in the school, and his uncle Alphard was even on the school's Board of Directors. Sirius had worked hard to master everything his parents had taught him, and this was supposed to be his moment when all his hard work paid off.

But now he was in Gryffindor. He wasn't sure his Slytherin cousins would even look at him, much less include him in their social activities. His Mother would have to find a clever way to stamp out all the gossip, and Sirius was sure that even Walburga wouldn't be able to do that. Sirius was trapped in a House in which he didn't belong, and he couldn't even be friends with the one person who had been kind to him because he had the wrong blood.

Sirius wiped his eyes furiously on the back of his hand, determined not to let his emotions show, even though he was now the only one left awake. He turned back to his letter, and began writing quickly,

_Dear Mother and Father_

_I wish to be the first to break the news, so that you do not hear it second-hand from my esteemed cousins._

_I have been sorted into Gryffindor._

_I do not know how such a thing happened, unless the Hat is faulty in some manner. In spite of this unexpected event, I shall continue to uphold the Black family name and traditions. _

_Toujours Pur,_

_Sirius_

Sirius waved the parchment to dry the ink more quickly, and set it on his nightstand so he wouldn't forget. He would have to make sure to send it off with his owl first thing in the morning if he was to beat his cousins breaking the news.

Siirus laid back on his bed, staring darkly at the ceiling. If he could get back into the good graces of his cousins, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad being in Gryffindor. He would only have to be lonely in Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

><p>It was an uneasy night of sleep. Sirius woke up just as the sun was creeping over the horizon. The others were still sound asleep while Sirius dressed. He was careful to smooth down his hair in the bathroom, and even slipped on his Slytherin tie pin underneath his sweater. Sirius grabbed the letter he had written for his parents, and hurried out of the dormitory.<p>

Sirius wasn't exactly sure how to get to the owlery from here, but knew the general location. _Two floors up from the Slytherin common room—turn left at the statue of Hilda the Hag. _

No one else was up this early, for which Sirius was grateful. He wasn't quite ready to deal with the stares just yet. He found the owlery rather easily, and avoided the bird droppings covering the floor while he searched the dark rafters for his owl.

"Come on, Lyra," he called, beckoning his sleepy owl to come down. His owl looked more hawk-like than owl, with long pointed feathers around her brilliant gold eyes. She fluttered down well enough, sticking her leg out with her back turned to Sirius, to communicate that she was most displeased at being woken up at this hour. "Take it to Mother and Father," said Sirius stiffly. "And get there before Cissy's owl does," he added, checking the rafters for her bird.

The owl took off through the open windows, and Sirius had no choice but to head to the Great Hall for breakfast. Only a few students were down this early, scattered in small little groups of twos and threes across their House tables. Sirius found his cousin Andromeda coming up the stairs from the Slytherin dormitories with two of her friends, and rushed over to her.

"Can I, er, have a word?" he asked breathlessly, barely remembering his manners, but certainly not well enough to acknowledge Andromeda's annoyed-looking friends.

Andromeda steered Sirius down a corridor toward the Transfiguration classrooms. "Did you write to Aunt Walburga?" she asked.

"Yes, I've just sent my owl," said Sirius darkly.

"That's all very well, then. Cissy was ready to tell them herself after lunch," Andromeda continued.

Sirius tried not to look too crestfallen. "Listen, Andromeda…er, you know I didn't deliberately avoid the family House, right? I had no way of controlling—"

"Sirius, it's all right," said Andromeda. Her voice was so void of judgment that Sirius stopped rambling immediately. "We all know none of us has any control over our Houses," she said knowingly. "And while I'm sure Aunt Walburga would have liked her eldest son to be sorted into her own House, do you really suspect that something as petty as school Houses will affect the family in any significant way?"

"But surely it's embarrassing—"

"For a week or two, perhaps," said Andromeda, waving her hand dismissively. "Aunt Walburga will be the subject of gossip, no doubt. But as she is your mother, you know better than most how absolutely terrifying she can be. She will put an end to the gossip rather quickly. And that's all it will ever be: gossip. Getting sorted into Gryffindor doesn't take away Grandfather Arcturus or Grandfather Pollux's positions in the Wizengamot, or your Father's place in the International Confederation of Wizards. Aunt Walburga is clever, and before long anyone who dares insinuate you are a joke to the Black family will only succeed in making themselves look ridiculous."

Sirius felt comforted by his cousin's words. "But what about my classes?" he asked desperately. "There is only one other Pureblood in my dormitory, and he won't talk to me."

"My advice is to at least maintain civility among your own House," said Andromeda. "There is no sense in becoming a social outcast, even if there is no one of your standing available to befriend. And I will speak to Cissy," she added at the unconvinced look on Sirius's face. "She ought to know better that her allegiance lies with the Black family first, and her silly-tempered boyfriend second. It will be difficult," she added, softly this time. "To toe the line between our family's expectations and your own sanity. But you've always been rather clever, Sirius, and I daresay that you will find your own balance between the two."

"But what happens if I have to choose?"

Something that looked like pain flitted across Andromeda's face, but it was too quick for Sirius to be sure. She set her lovely dark features into a smile. "You are a Gryffindor, are you not?"

Andromeda's friends, who had been hovering at the end of the corridor, called for her impatiently. "I will see you at dinner, Sirius," she called over her shoulder.

Sirius couldn't say he was completely relieved, but the confirmation from his family that he would not be disowned was a small comfort. Andromeda did just as she promised, and it wasn't even halfway through breakfast that Narcissa appeared at his side, her blonde boyfriend in tow.

"I should like to offer a congratulations, but I daresay I would have preferred you in my own House," Narcissa said politely. "It is a small matter, I suppose. You will still have classes with Slytherin, and I should like to introduce you to a few of my own acquaintances."

"No doubt you will not find many suitable friends in Gryffindor," added Lucius Malfoy. He and Narcissa wore identical Prefect badges, and with their attractive faces and matching blonde hair, could almost pass as siblings. At Malfoy's words, a few nearby Gryffindor heads shot up, scowling.

"I should like to think I can arrange friendships across many social circles," Sirius said tightly, not wanting to be ostracized by his own House so early on.

"Indeed," said Narcissa coolly. "I suppose one might find enjoyment in the company of such a crowd. It is an excellent opportunity to learn about our _very distant_ half-blooded cousins." Her insult was slight, and Sirius doubted whether his tablemates picked up on it. Narcissa offered Sirius a polite farewell and left her younger cousin to resume his breakfast alone.

One of the Gryffindors who had overheard Lucius Malfoy's insult scooted down the bench so he was directly across from Sirius. "You know them?" he asked with disdain.

"Narcissa is my cousin on my mother's side," said Sirius tightly. He couldn't help but frown at the other boy's ignorance. Narcissa and Sirius shared the same last name; of course they were acquainted. Sirius had never really cared for Narcissa, but he wasn't about to allow anyone to insult his family. However, Malfoy didn't count as he was not yet betrothed to Narcissa, and therefore not yet family. "The blonde git she was with is her boyfriend."

The Gryffindor seemed to relax at seeing Sirius refer to Malfoy as "git." "So how'd you end up in a House full of half-bloods and blood traitors?" he asked with a wide, lopsided grin. "Think you might be a bastard child, eh?"

"Oh, stop it!"

A blonde-haired girl of about Fourth Year suddenly appeared, and smacked the back of his head. "That's rude, you know!"

"I'm just wondering how a Black ended up in Gryffindor, that's all!" he insisted good-naturedly.

Sirius smiled a little at the joke, but the two older students stood up to leave without a second glance. Sirius was alone again at his table, and tried not to let it bother him. Sirius turned the page to his Transfiguration textbook, determined not to look like a fool sitting by himself on the first day of classes.

Finally the bell rang, and Sirius headed immediately for the Transfiguration classrooms, which were located on the opposite side of the entrance hall. He chose a seat right in the middle of the classroom, a bit close to the front. He saw Remus enter the classroom; Remus gave him a small tight-lipped smile before selecting a seat on the far side of the room near a few Hufflepuff students. Peter Pettigrew and James Potter arrived almost last, and so were stuck taking the empty seats closest to Sirius.

Professor McGonagall took roll and wasted no time informing the class that they would have homework beginning that very night. Her tone was strict enough that no one dared to groan in front of her.

"Transfiguration is one of the most complex and dangerous subjects you will learn at Hogwarts. As such, anyone found to be fooling around in my class will not be welcomed back," she said to a silent class. She raised her wand, levitating a matchbox to float around the classroom, spitting out matchsticks at students as it whizzed by. "Your first Transfiguration assignment of the year will be transforming a matchstick into a needle. You will find that Transfiguration involves more concentration than it does wand-waving. _Focus_," she said sharply, shooting a dark look at James Potter. Sirius glanced over at him to see him hastily scribbling on a piece of parchment. "will be the most necessary element in all your Transfiguration work. Mr. Potter," she added when James still had not looked up. "Would you like to demonstrate to the class first?"

James looked around the classroom, caught off guard. "Er, yeah, why not?" he said, clearing his throat.

"You will find the proper spell on page fourteen," McGonagall continued curtly.

James cleared his throat once more, wand held tightly in his hand. He tapped the matchstick in one fluid movement, but it did little more than wiggle. Several students laughed, including James.

"It seems your focus is rather weak, Mr. Potter," said McGonagall, hiding a smile. "Perhaps you ought to work on that tonight. Now," she continued, addressing the class at large. "Who can tell me the four branches of Transfiguration in ascending order of difficulty?"

Everyone in the class looked at each other out of the corners of their eyes, careful not to move out of fear of attracting McGonagall's attention. Sirius knew the answer—his governess had drilled it into his brain at ten years old. Sirius had no desire to raise his hand and attract attention to himself, but it seemed McGonagall would do that for him. "Mr. Black," she said, and Sirius felt all eyes in the room land on him.

Sirius straightened up in his chair. "Transformation, Vanishment, Conjuration, and Un-Transfiguration," he recited methodically.

"Very good," said McGonagall. "And what are the key differences between the four?"

Sirius glanced around him once, then said, "Transfiguration is the act of deforming or altering the target in some way, generally transforming one object into another. There are three sub-categories," he added, wondering if he really should have gone into this much detail. "Human, switching, and trans-species. Vanishment is rather more straightforward, rendering a target into non-being. Conjuration is Vanishment's counterpart, and involves summoning objects into being. Un-Transfiguration is the act of reversing an act of Transfiguration."

"And what is the difference between Transfiguration and Un-Transfiguration?" McGonagall pressed.

"Un-Transfiguration returns the target to its original state. If I transform a toad into a snuffbox, that's Transfiguration. If I want to Un-Transfigure it, I must return the snuffbox into the original toad, not just any toad."

"Ten points to Gryffindor," said McGonagall approvingly. The Gryffindors who had been watching Sirius with transfixed expressions suddenly all smiled to each other. It was the first House points of the year.

"Now," McGonagall continued. "Transfiguration is an exact art. It involves demanding concentration, precise wand movements, and leaves no room for personal creativity. Those of you with longer wands or a bit of flourish to your wrist movements will find Transfiguration rather difficult, and will have to compensate to be successful—" At this, several students began examining and comparing their wand lengths under the desks. McGonagall, who had her back turned to them, began writing on the chalkboard. "This is the formula all Transfigurations will follow, and I expect you all to memorize this by our next class. And if you're finished measuring your wands, you may pull them out and begin the assignment," she added pointedly.

Sirius had mastered the transfiguration a week after his tenth birthday—children were not allowed to perform magic outside of school, but Sirius's parents had insisted their sons master the basics beginning on their tenth birthday. As a result, Sirius had mastered all Charmswork and Transfiguration assigned through Christmas, and had a general knowledge in his other subjects up to his Second Year level.

Peter Pettigrew was poking at his matchstick with a gloomy expression, while James kept attempting to transfigure his with scattered attention. Sometimes he was joking with nearby students, other times staring at his matchstick with narrowed eyes.

Sirius had no one to talk to—all the students around him were engaged with their own neighbors. He transfigured his matchsticks into a neat row of silver needles, and began writing down his answers for the night's homework assignment without referring to his book.

"I suspect the Black family tradition of magical governesses has not desisted," noted McGonagall. Sirius had not heard her approaching, and jumped. She was eyeing his neat row of needles with approval.

"I mastered the spell a year and a half ago," Sirius muttered.

McGonagall caught the tone in Sirius's voice. "You do not sound proud of your work," she observed.

"The transfiguration involved is rudimentary at best," Sirius replied automatically. His parents had expected Sirius to master his work without pride or bragging, insisting that elementary magic was merely the difference between a wizard and a muggle, and was nothing to be proud of.

"How far ahead in the course have you been taught?" McGonagall asked.

"Until _Avifors_, although I know all the theories through the end of _Transfiguration for Beginners _and parts of _Intermediate Transfiguration. _And I can turn my desk into a pig._"_

"And I see you are already done with the homework assignment, though class is not yet halfway over," she continued, examining the parchment Sirius had been writing. "Perhaps you can utilize your extra time and knowledge to assist your classmates, as they are not as well-practiced. Pettigrew in particular could use your help."

Peter looked relieved at the idea of assistance, and James, who had been helping him, frowned. Sirius turned to them awkwardly, but as soon as McGonagall walked away, Peter asked, "Can you really turn your desk into a pig?" he asked.

Sirius couldn't help but grin at that. "Yes. Gave my governess quite a scare as she wasn't expecting me to have mastered anything beyond Transforming buttons into beetles at that point."

"Well, seeing as the rest of us don't have governesses at home, mind helping us out?" James asked. His tone was casual, but Sirius caught the rough edge in it.

"Let me see your wands," he said, holding out his hand. Peter did so immediately, but James hesitated. "I just need to see how long and springy they are," he added. James sighed, then handed his over.

Sirius examined them against his own, tapping them against the palm of his hand one at a time. "Potter, yours is well-suited to the subject, so you can follow the book's description exactly. As for yours," he added, looking at Peter. "Your wand is rather springy—you will have to be careful about how much you move your wrist—here, I'll show you. See how my wrist barely moves, but the wand tip still makes a semi-circle? That's what you're going to want to practice."

A Hufflepuff boy was leaning over from Sirius's other side, watching Sirius's lesson with rapt attention.

"It's easiest to master the movement before trying to do the rest, given that you're trying to focus on too many things at once," said Sirius. "If your wand movements are based in muscle memory, it's easier to focus on the Transfiguration."

Peter practiced the movement diligently, but James had begun a conversation with a neighbor on his other side, ignoring them.

"Right, now try it with the incantation this time," Sirius continued when he was sure Peter wouldn't blow up the classroom. "No—see, you're moving your wand too much again—"

By the end of the period Peter had managed to make his matchstick silver, which Sirius supposed was an improvement. James had ignored them all class, instead chatting animatedly with the Hufflepuff boy next to him. Sirius thought Peter might at least ask to sit together at lunch later, but the boy scurried off after James as the Gryffindors headed for History of Magic and didn't say a word to him again all day.

Sirius experienced a similar reaction in their Charms lesson, which was shared with Slytherin. Sirius recognized Evan Rosier and that git Snape, and steadfastly ignored them both. The Slytherins were seated on one side and the Gryffindors on the other. In the middle were a handful of empty seats, one of which Sirius took with resignation.

Sirius was good at Charms—his father had predicted it may become Sirius's best class, but Walburga thought Charms was "too soft" a subject.

"It would be a better use of his time to refine his skills in Transfiguration or Potions," she insisted. She may have preferred the more complicated subjects for her sons, but Walburga herself was notorious for her wandwork and unpleasant spell-casting.

"We will begin your practice of Charms with the Levitation Charm," Professor Flitwick announced from his spot at the front of the classroom. "You will all see feathers placed in front of you—" Those feathers, of course, had been snatched up and used to tickle each others' ears and noses since the start of class. "Who can tell me the incantation for the Levitation Charm?"

Sirius raised his hand automatically, but so did another figure nearby. Sirius and Lily Evans shot each other stony looks before turning back to Flitwick.

"_Wingardium Leviosa," _said Lily confidently.

"Very good!" Flitwick praised. "The Levitation Charm is an excellent test of your magical ability, control, and above all—patience. It is an adaptation of the lesser _Levioso, _and—"

Sirius swatted away a feather which had begun to creep uncomfortably close to his face. Somewhere behind him a few students giggled.

"Who can tell me the limitations of the Levitation Charm?" Flitwick continued.

Lily raised her hand again, but Sirius spoke aloud this time. "The heavier the object, the greater the caster's skill and concentration must be. The Levitation Charm works on all objects and creatures with the notable exception of humans."

"Very good!" said Flitwick, beaming.

Sirius yanked a feather out of Dominic Avery's hand. Careful to keep his wand under the desk, he incinerated it before flicking the burnt feather back at him. He felt a few witnesses stare at the back of his head with their mouths open, but Flitwick seemed oblivious to it all.

"Now, everyone get your wands out!" announced Flitwick. None of the students, eager to perform magic, needed telling twice. "You will find the wand movement to be a very simple swish and flick! Give it a go!"

While the other students poked and prodded their wands at their stationary feathers, Sirius skimmed through his Charms book until he reached the section about counter-_Alohomora_ Charms. He was well-practiced in the Unlocking Charm, but was interested to find out how to counter-act his mother's persistent locking charms around the house.

Snape and Avery were now forced to share a feather, even though Sirius's sat unused on his desk.

"Black, give me your feather."

Sirius looked up to see Avery leaning over, hand out expectantly. Before he could consider it, Snape blurted out, "No, don't bother. The blood-traitor's already touched it, so it's useless now."

Avery straightened back up in his seat to face Snape. "And how are we supposed to practice with just one?"

"You can use it—I already know the spell," said Snape curtly.

Sirius was weighing the decision to reply with something biting when Flitwick suddenly appeared—he was so short that Sirius hadn't seen him coming until he was level with their desks. "Now, now! Less talking, more practicing! Black, you don't even have your wand out!"

"I know the spell, sir," said Sirius, forcing his attention on their professor.

Flitwick gave Sirius a shrewd look. "Would you care to demonstrate?"

Sirius pulled his wand out and in a bored voice, gave the incantation. His feather soared up gracefully, hovering several meters above the students' heads.

"Excellent!" beamed Flitwick. "I had heard rumors, of course. How far do your levitation skills extend?"

"The heaviest thing I've picked up was our House Elf," Sirius said, a vivid image of Kreacher's disgruntled face appearing in his mind's eye.

"Perhaps you can attempt it on your desk!"

"My desk?" Sirius repeated, sure he had misheard.

"Levitating something as heavy as your desk will refine your levitation skills. Go on!" said Flitwick excitedly. "Just be careful not to drop it on anyone, it's only the first day of term, you know."


	4. Delicate Alliances

Chapter four:

The lonely silence Sirius experienced his first week at school didn't last long. Word quickly spread among the First Years that Sirius had already mastered most of their courseload. As a result, Sirius left his outcast status almost overnight, and was chiefly popular among the females of his year. Marlene McKinnon in particular had asked Sirius for regular help with her Transfiguration work, and in exchange offered her notes in History of Magic. Sirius was well-versed in events involving pure-blooded families, but his governess considered any history involving muggles or muggle-borns to be useless. As a result, Marlene's notes were quite helpful.

Sirius and Marlene met in the muggle studies section of the library twice a week; Marlene insisted they were less likely to be disturbed here, and she was right. The older students who frequented this corner of the library kept to themselves, and no pure-blooded Slytherin would dare step foot there. Sirius often brought extra reading material to their study sessions, but he and Marlene never did get quite as far in their homework as he would have liked. After the first thirty minutes or so, Marlene would often push her homework aside and start chatting animatedly. It was impossible for Sirius to focus at that point, but he didn't want to be rude. Marlene and her friend—Mary, Sirius realized later—were the only people in the school who actually seemed to enjoy his company.

The rest of the student body was a different story entirely. Just as Sirius had resigned himself to the role of social outcast, he was suddenly the center of attention. Professors were impressed with his advanced skill, the Slytherins were glad he hadn't embarrassed them too much, and the Gryffindors mostly looked on with the sort of bemused expressions a hen might have at finding a foreign egg in the nest. It was odd to be simultaneously the most popular and yet most disliked student in the school. The younger students were happy to be seen talking to him in the Great Hall or in class, but determinedly ignored him otherwise, whispering to their friends behind his back.

Sirius had hoped his cousins might step in and save him embarrassment at meal times or on weekends, but there was no such luck. Andromeda made it a point to say hi to him in the corridors, but was often too busy with her N.E.W.T. level classes to pay him much mind. Sirius was sure Lucius was still rather sore about the incident involving itching powder at one of the endless Black dinners, and so he and Narcissa refused to acknowledge him whenever possible.

As a result, Sirius quickly learned to fill his spare time with studying or exploring the school grounds. He quickly found several empty corridors, secret towers, and even a tunnel that he was sure led off school grounds. His favorite spot was a hidden tower near the Defense Against the Dark Arts classrooms—it was little more than a spiral staircase that led nowhere for three levels, but it had a view of the lake and most of the front lawn. It was here Sirius hid most weekend afternoons, practicing the homework from the Second Year syllabus. Once in a while, feeling brave, he would practice the curses his mother often used when she was angry.

After only three weeks, the secret hideout to avoid public shame had suddenly turned into a much-needed safe haven.

Sirius wasn't sure how it had started, but he suddenly found himself surrounded by a gaggle of girls almost every morning at breakfast. They giggled more than they talked to him, and Sirius was left looking from one fresh face to the other in quiet confusion. The Houses were expected to keep to their respective tables at mealtimes, but that didn't stop girls from all Houses—even two brave Second Years from Slytherin—from constantly flocking around him. The other Gryffindor boys looked on in amusement, but never intervened.

"Choosing a future Mrs. Black already, eh?" Potter had mentioned in passing once, a wide, lopsided grin on his face. It was the most he had said to him since their first day of class, and Sirius wasn't sure whether to be insulted or laugh at the joke.

Professors often called on Sirius in class, even though he never had his hand up anymore. Peeves had developed an annoying habit of bowing ridiculously low to him whenever Sirius passed. And still the girls continued to follow him around the school, while no one other than Marlene really seemed to talk to him.

It wasn't until his personal property started disappearing that Sirius finally got an answer to all the weird behavior.

"All my quills are gone!" he said, clearing his mostly-empty bag onto the table. He and Marlene were huddled away in the Muggle studies section after class one day in late September.

Marlene giggled at that.

"What's so funny?" Sirius asked, mystified.

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?"

Sirius stared back at her blankly.

"Your fan club," she offered, trying to suppress a smile. "They've stolen all your stuff as trophies."

"That's completely ridiculous," said Sirius dismissively. He was irritated at being found quill-less once again. He would have to ask his parents to send him a package.

If they would talk to him, that is. Sirius was sure his father was out of the country on business, but Walburga Black had remained notably silent since Sirius began Hogwarts.

"You can have one of mine," Marlene offered, pulling out an extra quill and handing it to Sirius. It was a cheap one, Sirius noted, very unlike his own expensive quills and prone to blotting ink. Still, he was grateful for something with which to write.

Sirius pulled his homework toward himself, but was unable to concentrate. "What do you mean by 'fan club'?" he finally asked.

Marlene looked up from her book and grinned again. "Well, they're all in love with you, obviously—"

Sirius' eyebrows shot up. This was not the answer he had been expecting. "Excuse me? Where on earth do you get that idea? They never talk to me, they stare at me whenever I pass by—"

"Only because they're all too shy," said Marlene knowingly.

Sirius' brow furrowed. "So instead of saying 'good morning,' they steal my personal possessions?"

Marlene shrugged. "Yeah."

Sirius rolled his eyes—the bad habit was slipping back now that he didn't have his mother to constantly berate him for it. "I don't understand it."

"Then you're not as clever as you seem," Marlene said cryptically. Seeing the look on Sirius's face, she added, "You're…mysterious."

"I'm what?"

"You have a certain…_je ne sais quoi. _Like, it's the way you talk for example, as if you're royalty or something."

Sirius's brows knit together. "I'm not familiar with much popular slang, but the way I speak is hardly—"

"And obviously your good looks and wealth help," she added, ignoring Sirius. "But it's more to do with the fact that you're brilliant in all our classes, but you don't seem to think so. Believe me, it's so refreshing to see humility among purebloods—"

"But I'm _not _brilliant—"

"See?" she interrupted. "Exactly what I mean. You're mysterious."

Sirius felt his face flush in spite of himself, and turned back to his homework. "This whole school is mysterious," he muttered to himself.

"Are you going to the Quidditch game this weekend?" Marlene asked, changing the direction of the conversation.

Sirius hesitated. He would like to go, but not if it meant sitting alone in the stands like an idiot.

"Because Mary and I are going, if you want to sit with us," Marlene continued, flipping her hair over one shoulder.

"Er, all right, then," Sirius decided. "Should we meet in the common room beforehand?"

"Don't worry, I'll come find you," Marlene assured him.

* * *

><p>She did exactly as promised that weekend, and she, Sirius, and Mary made their way through the school and down to the Quidditch pitch together. The excitement about the first game of the season was infectious. Students were chatting animatedly with each other over the two competing teams—Ravenclaw and Slytherin—and Sirius felt his spirits lift for the first time since the Sorting. Until, of course, his cousins caught sight of him.<p>

"Sirius!"

Sirius turned his head to see Narcissa and Andromeda, who were surrounded by a few older Slytherin students.

"Where are you going?" Narcissa asked, frowning. She was dressed in an emerald green sweater, and her blonde hair was pulled back into a neat pony tail secured with green ribbon.

Sirius's frown matched her own. "To the Quidditch game?" he said, confused by her question.

"Yes, I know that," said Narcissa, her voice full of superiority. "But you don't need to ask for help finding the pitch. You will of course be sitting with us during the game—"

"We're his _friends,_" Marlene interrupted hotly, not at all intimidated by the Fifth Year Slytherin.

Narcissa genuinely looked surprised at that. Andromeda was too busy chatting with her friends to pay attention to the conversation, and Rabastan Lestrange sniggered.

"Oh, I didn't realize…" said Narcissa. Her tone was apologetic, but Sirius knew that the only person she was sorry for was himself. "McKinnon, isn't it?"

"Yes," Marlene said defiantly.

Sirius watched as Narcissa and Lestrange's eyes found his own and gave him a knowing look. _Half-blood. _Not worthy of associating with the Black family.

"I know your older brothers," Narcissa continued. "They seemed to learn their place well enough; it's a shame you haven't yet learned yours."

Marlene took a bold step forward, wagging a finger in Narcissa's face. "My _place _is going to be in your face in a minute—"

Narcissa and Lestrange erupted into laughter.

"You really are a poor excuse for a witch," said Lestrange waspishly. "A physical fight? Use your _wand, _you blood-traitor—"

Andromeda turned around to see what all the fuss was about, and caught sight of the expression on Sirius's face. "Rabastan, put your wand away! Dueling with a First Year? Cissy, you're a Prefect—stop arguing with them," Andromeda admonished them.

Lestrange rolled his eyes. Narcissa shot her older sister a disparaging look, but did as told. She raised a pale eyebrow at Sirius. "If you find the time between all your new social circles, your cousins would love if you joined us for the game." With that, she and Lestrange marched off. Andromeda rolled her eyes, but she and her two friends followed.

"What a cow," said Marlene hotly, watching Narcissa with narrowed eyes.

"She's not a cow, she's my cousin," Sirius spoke up.

Marlene rounded on him. "So you're siding with _her_?"

Sirius frowned, not expecting this sudden turn of events. "Well, I do think she was very rude—"

"You know what? Go sit with them instead," Marlene said. She grabbed Mary's shoulder. "Come on—he doesn't want to sit with anyone _beneath _his status—"

Sirius stood rooted to the spot, stunned. In less than five minutes he had managed to argue with his cousins and his only friend without having said anything at all. His mother had trained him for five years in the art of conversation, and yet nothing about those lessons could have prepared him for communicating with his peers.

Most of the entrance hall had emptied out at this point; all the students were filing into the Quidditch Pitch. Sirius was tempted to turn on his heel and practice a particularly nasty Blasting Spell to channel his anger out, but knew that he couldn't. He would have to be seen at the game. And while Marlene may no longer be talking to him, his cousins had no choice. He was the heir to the family name.

Sirius absentmindedly smoothed down his sweater, his hands brushing over the silver Slytherin tie pin underneath.

"Thank _Merlin_," said Narcissa several minutes later when Sirius had joined them in the stands. She shook her head, combing her long ponytail with her fingers. "I am so glad you came to your senses—do you have any idea what it would look like if you had sat with them?"

"Yes—I would have been sitting with the members of my own House," said Sirius waspishly, still too angry to be civil.

"No," said Narcissa slowly, like she was speaking to a dimwitted toddler. "Everyone would have seen the Black heir sitting with a group of raucous half-bloods and blood traitors over his own family. Perhaps you're itching to rebel now that you're out of my dear Aunt Walburga's sight, but think of Regulus—what kind of precedent are you setting for him when he comes? The _embarrassing _older brother who associates with riff-raff, or the respectable heir who upheld the family name?"

Sirius didn't reply. He knew in the back of his mind that Narcissa was right, but he hated it none the less.

"If you have to associate with them, then do it privately," Narcissa continued knowingly, examining her cuticles for perfection. Her tone was more gentle now. "That is what your Common Room is for, is it not?"

Down below, Madam Hooch's whistle blew to signal the start of the game.

"Oh, there goes Lucius!" said Narcissa excitedly as the players took off. Malfoy was a Chaser for the Slytherin team, and easily spotted by his white-blonde hair.

Sirius watched the game without much interest. He clapped politely whenever Slytherin scored a goal, but otherwise sat stock-still in his seat, staring straight ahead.

"All the Slytherin Chasers have new brooms," Narcissa was saying, though Sirius wasn't sure to whom. "The _Nimbus One-Thousand. _Fastest broom on the market."

Next to her, Rabastan Lestrange was watching the game with half-hearted interest. "Their brooms aren't much good if they can't get around the Ravenclaws to score—look, they keep getting knocked off course by the bludgers—if I had been allowed to stay on the team—"

"You were a bit too forceful," Naricssa told him sternly. "You sent half the Hufflepuff team to the infirmary last year."

Rabastan grinned widely at the memory. Like his elder brother, Rabastan had a darkly handsome face and a sort of dangerous, maniacal glint in his eye. After his Cousin Bella's wedding last summer, Sirius had been forced to interact with the Lestranges more often. They were a rather cruel pair, but Sirius preferred them over someone like Mulciber.

"I was the best Beater the team ever had—"

Narcissa looked over at him. "Jealousy does not become you," she said in a bored voice.

Rabastan laughed loudly at that. "Nor you, Cissy," he said. "I saw the way you eyed our siblings at the wedding—don't worry, I'm sure Lucius will be bullied into proposing soon enough."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Narcissa said loftily.

"You two mind yourselves," Andromeda said, getting to her feet. "Don't teach Sirius anything Aunt Walburga wouldn't approve of."

"Where are you going?" Narcissa asked, looking over her shoulder at her sister.

"If you must know, I need to make use of a bathroom," Andromeda said pointedly. Narcissa waved her off and turned her attention back toward the game.

"Aunt Walburga wishes to know what you would like for Christmas dinner," Narcissa told Sirius a moment later.

Sirius frowned at that, turning to look at her. "When did you speak with Mother? Why hasn't she asked me herself?"

"My dear Aunt says you haven't written her and it breaks her heart," Narcissa continued, eyes still following Malfoy's path on the Quidditch Pitch.

"So she writes to you but not to me?"

"And you write to Regulus but not your Mother—"

"I've written her!"

"When?"

"The first day."

"And since then?"

Sirius hesitated. "Well, no—I was rather hoping she would write me back. I thought she was ignoring me out of disappointment."

Narcissa shook her head. "My esteemed Aunt is likely very busy with her current engagements and has not found time to coddle you. You ought to write her more often, Sirius—she sees letters going to Regulus but not to herself. How do you imagine she feels? She worries that you're alone in Gryffindor, and fears that perhaps you no longer consider it an importance to write her."

Sirius's head was spinning. He knewhis mother was not broken-hearted. This was a game. Sirius was sure his mother _had _been ignoring him, and asking such a silly question of his cousin was a deliberate provocation. It was maddening because Sirius _had _written her, but leave it to Walburga to insist that it wasn't enough. "I will write her and tell her myself what I would like at the Christmas dinner," he finally said, gritting his teeth.

"Lovely."

"In fact, I will waste no time and do it now," Sirius added, getting to his feet.

"Now? Surely it can wait until after the game—"

"Not when I've made my dear Mother wait this long to hear from her son," Sirius replied with barely-concealed sarcasm. He got to his feet and made his way through the stands. The other students ignored him as he passed, too focused on the game, which was currently tied forty to forty. Sirius ran a hand through his hair in irritation, and could feel his hands shaking.

He had been left—alone—in Gryffindor, and his Mother had the nerve to ignore him all month and yet write to his cousins? And not only that, but to pass along silly messages through them?

Sirius descended the rough wooden stairs angrily, but the crowd was far too loud for his thunderous footsteps to be heard. He rounded a corner just outside the edge of the stands and stopped dead in his tracks.

It was his cousin Andromeda, and she was entwined with a boy Sirius had never seen before. Andromeda was laughing at something the boy was saying in her ear, both oblivious to their sudden intrusion. The boy leaned into Andromeda, pulling her close before their lips locked.

Sirius turned on his heel at the sight, not quite registering what he had just seen—and was clearly not supposed to see. Pureblooded or not, none of the Black girls were to be seen alone with a wizard until they were betrothed—and there was no such plan for Andromeda. Aunt Druella often remarked how her middle daughter might be "too old" to find a husband if she couldn't select a suitor among her peers while in school, but Andromeda had always insisted she wanted to finish higher education before settling down.

It was just a cover. Andromeda had a secret boyfriend.

Sirius found a different exit for the stands, this one leading toward the Hufflepuff changing rooms. He hurried up the path that led back to the school, mind racing. He had no intention of writing Walburga, even if she was playing games. Instead of heading directly for the Gryffindor Common Room, Sirius found his secret staircase near the Defense Against the Dark Arts classrooms. He paced the stone floor back and forth several times, twirling his wand impatiently between his fingers before finally stopping it and aiming it at the stone wall in front of him.

"_Confringo!"_

The surface of the stone wall was blasted apart by the spell. It was not as dramatic as the description in Sirius's dueling textbook, but impressive nonetheless for an eleven-year-old.

There was something oddly soothing about the destructive spell, and Sirius' anger was beginning to lessen. He practiced the spell over and over until there was a sizable explosion of red and orange sparks that left behind a rather large burn mark on the stone. Feeling thoroughly exhausted now, Sirius repaired the wall, grateful for his governess teaching him the useful spell. The burn marks were still there, but Sirius doubted whether Filch would be able to figure out who had done it.

His anger thoroughly dissipated, Sirius left his hide-out in the tower and made his way to the Gryffindor Common Room. The game was undoubtedly still going on because the tower was completely empty. Sirius sat down on the edge of his bed and pulled some parchment out of his school book.

_Dear Mother and Father _he began. He rolled his eyes, trying to think of the most effective way to make peace, despite having done nothing wrong.

_I apologize for my lack of correspondence—_sure—_and hope that is letter finds you both well._

_I am enjoying my classes, and am the most advanced in each one. So far Defense Against the Dark Arts has been my favorite, although the Potions Master Horace Slughorn is certainly engaging. _

Professor Slughorn had been a huge relief to Sirius. After rumors of Sirius's academic excellence spread around the school, Slughorn had invited Sirius to some private party. Narcissa explained to him that it was affectionately known as the 'Slug Club,' and only "important people" were ever invited. This ensured Sirius had an opportunity to connect with the right students in the school, even if he was still a social pariah.

_I have not had much opportunity to socialize with my peers lately, but I do hope to join one of the many school clubs soon. Gryffindor is certainly lacking in some areas, but I have made efforts to become acquainted with the purebloods throughout the school._

Well, not exactly. But the thought of Sirius socializing with purebloods should put his parents at ease.

_My dear cousin Narcissa has informed me, Mother, that you have been inquiring after my preferences for the Christmas dinner. As always, I should be happy with whatever you select for the main course, requesting only cherry tart for desert._

_I shall write again, and much more timely than this letter finds you. I hope to hear from you soon._

_Tujours Pur,_

_Sirius._

Sirius read and re-read the letter several times before he decided it was good enough. There wasn't much substance to it—only a handful of short paragraphs—but it was still a letter nonetheless. Sirius sealed it and headed back downstairs. In the time he had been writing, the game must have ended. Students were milling back upstairs, excitedly discussing the game. They ignored Sirius as he passed, and he ignored them in turn. Sirius made use of all the side stairwells he had discovered in his lonely walks, avoiding the crows of the main staircase. The last set of stairs led down to the basements, but Sirius was willing to double-back if it meant avoiding the entrance hall. He emerged from a large portrait of peacocks and suddenly found himself face-to-face with none other than James Potter and Peter Pettigrew.

"How did you get down here?" James asked, frowning. In his arms were several bottles of butterbeer, a loaf of bread, cheeses, and part of a ham hock. Behind him Peter was carrying a chocolate cake.

Sirius was too distracted by their odd load to pay any mind to the question. "Why do you have so much food? More importantly, where did you get it?"

He and James locked eyes again.

"Let's pretend we didn't see each other," James offered, stepping around Sirius. Peter scurried after him.

Sirius shook his head, heading in the opposite direction toward the owlery. Lyra was snuggled up against an enormous barn owl, and was not happy to be woken up with the task of delivering a letter. "I know, I know," Sirius told her soothingly. "But Mother's already having a fit, so let's just get it over with."

With the letter sent, Sirius was left to wander the school until dinner. He didn't feel like returning to Gryffindor Tower, and nor did he want to socialize with his cousins. Instead he decided to explore the eastern part of the school, and accidentally stumbled across a secret entrance to the Prefect's bathroom. Sirius made a mental note to himself to start writing all of this down—there were so many abandoned wings and hidden passageways, and he would never be able to memorize them all.

With dinner came the usual odd loneliness Sirius experienced despite being surrounded by people. Marlene was undoubtedly still angry with him, because she and Mary made it a point to walk past him without so much as a glance and sit with Lily Evans. Sirius poked at his food half-heartedly, having very little appetite despite skipping lunch. He briefly entertained the idea of at least becoming acquainted with his dorm-mate, Remus Lupin, but the boy had fallen ill and was tucked away behind a private curtain in the infirmary.

Sirius skipped desert and headed back upstairs to Gryffindor Tower much earlier than the others. He had endured a month of this outcast status, and it was unbearable—how would he survive seven years?

Maybe he could write his parents and request that they transfer him to Durmstrang.

Sirius pushed open the door to his dormitory, and saw a rather worn-looking Remus Lupin sitting on his bed, surrounded by homework. Surprised to see him out of the infirmary, Sirius blurted out, "Are you feeling better?"

"Loads, but I'm afraid I've fallen behind on my homework," said Remus sadly, looking around at the piles he had made.

"The teachers aren't going to give you an extension for your illness?" Sirius asked, frowning.

"Well, they might—I don't want to ask," Remus said quickly. "I want to stay caught up."

Sirius walked over to his own bed, but found he had nothing to do; he had already prepared the homework for his classes for the next two weeks. He looked back over at Remus, who was scratching his head with his quill and frowning. "Would you like help?"

Remus looked up, surprised. "Huh?"

Sirius cleared his throat and spoke more loudly this time. "Would you like help getting caught up?"

Remus hesitated, looking around the room despite the fact that no one else was there. "I mean, yes, if you don't mind—"

"Of course not, I offered to," said Sirius, sitting down on the other side of Remus's bed. He picked up Remus's Potions essay and skimmed it over. The general content was correct, but he was missing a lot of key details that Sirius knew Slughorn would look for.

"I'm terrible at Potions," said Remus, as though he thought he had to explain himself. "It just doesn't stick with me."

"It's a very precise subject," Sirius commented, pulling a quill toward himself and writing in the margins of the essay. "And a very fickle one. I never liked it either," he added.

Remus smiled at that.

"Obviously you'll want to re-write this," Sirius told him. "I've added notes all over it—but it should bring your essay to the required length, and I have no doubt Slughorn would approve of it."

Remus looked it over, his lips moving silently as he read. "Can you explain it to me? I mean, your notes catch me up on the assignment, but I'd really like to understand it for myself, too."

"Er, all right," said Sirius, skimming over the essay Remus handed back to him. "The most important part of determining the strength of Forgetfulness Potions is understanding the difference between simmering and a reduction. Our textbook says to simmer at a low temperature for forty-five to sixty minutes—this allows for most of the effects of the Valerian Sprig to burn off, resulting in a mild potion. If you were to reduce the potion—that is, boil rapidly and uncovered for less time, the Potion would become more intense."

"So it's kind of like cooking," Remus mused.

Sirius handed him back the essay. "I wouldn't know—our House Elf does all our cooking."

"So what about this 'wave your wand' business?" Remus asked. "It's listed in the directions twice, but I never remember when I need to do it—or even why, for that matter."

"I am not sure of the reasons why, but anytime you leave your potion untouched after a particular phase or its completion, you do it," Sirius replied, shrugging.

They worked through his Charms homework next, and Sirius showed Remus a few tricks to getting the week's Transfiguration assignment more precise.

"If you do a bit of math first," Sirius explained, writing it out. "It makes the Transfiguration much easier to carry out because you know exactly what to visualize. So if our snuffbox is approximately five ounces, and has a concentration factor of two, you'll see that it requires approximately sixty-seven percent wand power to get a table-standard goblet."

"How do you know all this?" Remus asked him. "I mean, my dad taught me and everything, but you're so…precise."

"My brother and I grew up with a governess, and perfection was expected of us," said Sirius, shrugging.

Remus raised his eyebrows. "Oh, well, that must have been quite stressful—my dad told me it's common for children to have difficulty controlling their magic until about the age of twelve or thirteen."

"If you don't mind my asking, why did your father take over your lessons? What about your mother?"

"My mother's a muggle," Remus answered carefully.

Years of living under the Black matriarch had taught Sirius careful control of his facial features. He knew that Remus had heard all about the Black family's political views, and no doubt assumed Sirius to be the same. And while there was undoubtedly a difference between purebloods, half-bloods, and muggle-borns, Sirius didn't necessarily think it was a negative difference. Just…they were different, that was all.

Before either could speak, the dormitory door flew open and James and Peter stumbled in, yawning. Sirius checked his watch and saw that it was a quarter to ten.

"Well, I think that ought to be enough for tonight," he said, moving toward his own four-poster to prepare for bed.

"Thanks again," Remus said, gathering up his homework and placing it safely in his book bag.

"Any time," Sirius said. It was a habit to respond politely, but Sirius genuinely meant it. Remus might be the wrong type of friend on all levels, but he was perhaps the nicest person Sirius had met yet. As Sirius dressed for bed and lay back on his four-poster, hidden by his scarlet hangings, he tried to fight the nagging feeling in his chest; the beginning of what would become a five-year battle between two relentless forces.

Of course Sirius didn't know this, yet. No, on this October night at eleven years old, Sirius laid in bed and wondered if his parents would be very upset by him pursuing an acquaintance with a half-blood, even if most of it was teaching him. If purebloods really were superior, then Sirius could justify a friendship with Remus by using his own advantage to educate the half-blood.

It was a far leap, but the potential friendship was worth the plunge.


	5. A Cold-Hearted Christmas

Chapter five:

The first part of term passed in much the same way it began. Sirius couldn't socialize with his Slytherin relatives without ostracizing the few Gryffindors who would talk to him, and yet he couldn't befriend anyone who was beneath his status. It was a maddening balancing act between the two, and so by the time December arrived, Sirius found himself mostly alone and friendless.

Unless, of course, one counted the relationship with the half-blood Remus Lupin, and Sirius preferred to keep that friendship a secret. Not because he was ashamed of Remus's inferior birth, but because he knew that if his cousins discovered them, it would be the end for much more than their study sessions in the library. Lyall Lupin, Remus's father, worked underneath Sirius's Uncle Cygnus in the Control of Magical Creatures Department. And while it would seem fickle to fire a man over an improper childhood friendship, Sirius wouldn't put it past his family to do such a thing. After all, they were greatly impressed with Abraxas Malfoy's involvement in the coup that unseated Nobby Leach in 1968.

Remus was out sick again at Halloween, and then it was his mother in late November.

"She's got very fragile health," Remus was telling Sirius one afternoon, after asking Sirius to take notes for him in their classes. Remus himself was rather pale, and Sirius wondered if it wasn't perhaps hereditary. No doubt the weak disposition had something to do with the muggle blood, but Sirius didn't say as much.

"Can you have a Healer look at her?" Sirius asked. "I understand that she's a muggle, but perhaps wizarding healing can provide relief that the muggles can't."

Remus hesitated. "Er—maybe. I don't really know much about all that—Dad mostly takes care of her, you see. It's a chronic illness—no cure."

"Oh. That's unfortunate."

Remus nodded to himself. "Yeah."

Marlene still wasn't talking to Sirius after their argument during the Quidditch game. Sirius figured she would come around once she had some time, but Mary had befriended Lily Evans in the meantime. This meant Marlene's dislike of Sirius only intensified, and the three girls often turned up their noses at him when they passed each other in the corridors.

As for Potter, he and Pettigrew mostly snuck around the school—for every point Sirius earned Gryffindor in class, James alone lost nearly half of them for getting caught after-hours wandering the halls. Twice Filch caught the boy with pockets full of dungbombs, and so James was well-known throughout Hogwarts as having earned more detentions than anyone else in a month's time. Sirius couldn't help but be silently amused by the other boy's relentless pranks, and would have offered a few pointers on avoiding detection if it weren't for the fact that James flat-out ignored him. He wasn't cruel or biting like many students, though Sirius would have almost preferred that. Being outright ignored was both foreign and annoying.

Classes were progressing more quickly now that the First Years were getting familiar with the basics, although Sirius was now self-taught up to Second Year level in all subjects. Lily had proved to be a natural in Charms, and Sirius often heard the snide whispering from the Slytherins—part of him was tempted to scold them for their rudeness, and the other part wanted to remind them that a muggle-born was beating them in magical ability. Instead Sirius decided to avoid a fight—no doubt a debate would arise about whether or not Sirius was a muggle-lover and a blood-traitor, or else an arrogant pureblood. Sirius wasn't sure which would be the worse insult.

Despite Sirius memorizing all of their Potions assignments down to the smallest detail, Severus Snape ended up being top of the class there. Sirius supposed he didn't really care, as his and Snape's potions received equal marks despite Snape's being superior. The greasy kid sat with Lily Evans, which surprised Sirius the most—most of the class was spent watching the two work on their assignments and wonder how Snape could be friends with Lily in one breath, and then throw around the word "mudblood" the next.

But if he was honest with himself, Sirius realized it was just a more extreme example of his own doing. He was a pureblood of the highest social standing, from a family of notorious blood purity convictions, and yet he continued to maintain civility—and even friendship—with those beneath him.

So Sirius was a hypocrite—at least he had the sense to downplay his double-standard status, and not float from his muggle-born friend to his evil, bullying cronies in Slytherin in a span of just minutes.

Sirius attended Slughorn's private Christmas party without any real desire to go—Lily had been invited this time, and she and Snape spent the evening huddled together. His cousin Narcissa and her boyfriend were also present, although Sirius had made it a point to avoid them at all costs. Malfoy had picked up on Sirius's attempt to toe the line of neutrality, and enjoyed deliberately provoking him whenever possible in the corridors. This quickly dampened any possibility of Sirius befriending anyone in his House, which Sirius realized was the point of Malfoy's antagonism.

Sirius did get his petty revenge, of course, having discovered the cavernous laundry room just before Halloween. He found Malfoy's quidditch uniform and poured an entire cup of itching powder into the load; it would take weeks before washing out completely. Sirius had waited patiently for the Slytherin-Gryffindor game in mid-December, and watched in silent glee—an evil smirk across his face—as Malfoy constantly flew off course from the relentless irritation.

Finally the Christmas holidays came, and with it was almost relief. Sirius was exhausted trying to maneuver around the complex social stigma throughout the school; at least at home, he knew exactly where he stood and would be among family.

Sirius packed a handful of his more important belongings—there was no need to bring any schoolwork home as Sirius was well ahead in all classes. James and Peter were chatting animatedly about their Christmas plans, and Remus had already left for break a few days early. Satisfied, Sirius left his two dorm-mates without a single goodbye or second look and headed toward the entrance hall to join the throng of students waiting to go home.

Sirius had found Narcissa and the others at Hogsmede station, and was careful to sit with them on the ride into King's Cross. He tried to follow along in their conversations, but each time the gossip turned cruel, Sirius found himself unable to feign interest.

"Are you feeling unwell?" Narcissa had asked when Sirius turned to look out the window gloomily while the rest of the compartment laughed cruelly at some joke Malfoy had made.

"A bit," Sirius lied. "I don't believe I slept well last night."

Narcissa flipped her curtain of blonde hair over her shoulder. "Well, I do hope you're not ill—it would be a shame to miss the Christmas engagements due to an illness."

"Yes, it would be a shame," Sirius mumbled.

At least at home there would be Regulus, and Sirius only had to endure his cousins at the big Christmas dinner. Things would go back to normal.

The train pulled into King's Cross by mid-afternoon. Sirius drew his thick scarf about himself and followed the others onto the platform. Aunt Druella was spotted in fabrics of rich lavender, eager to embrace her two daughters while Malfoy made a beeline for his own parents. Sirius looked around the platform, but none of the fine robes and expensive cloaks belonged to his parents.

Sirius frowned, wondering where his mother could be.

"No parents, dear?"

Sirius turned to see a kind-faced woman he didn't recognize; next to her stood an annoyed-looking Mary McManus from his own House.

"Er, I just imagine they're running a bit late," said Sirius assuredly.

Mary dragged her mother off, and slowly the families were disappearing from the platform. Eventually it was only Sirius and a few of the Hogwarts Express staff on the platform. Sirius checked his watch for the hundredth time; unless his mother had been attacked by a rogue pack of Hippogriffs, she would not be coming. Even at her worst, Walburga was never late.

Sirius fought the feeling of irrational fear rising in his chest. While there were no wizarding families who could help, Sirius wasn't useless—the ancestral home was here in London. How hard could it be to find?

Sirius left the platform and wandered the muggle section of the train station until he found a map of London by the visitor's center. Sirius sat down tentatively on one of the wooden benches and unfolded the thing, searching desperately for nearby landmarks he recognized. Then, on the far side of middle London, Sirius found the muggle university located near his neighborhood. He measured out the centimeters, and according to the legend, it was over five kilometers of walking. He had no muggle money, and had no idea how muggle transportation worked even if he did.

Five kilometers wasn't the worst distance ever, but it was snowing.

Sirius folded the map back up, stuffing it roughly into his pocket. He was a wizard—there was no reason to walk all the way home.

Problem was, Sirius had no idea how to apparate, had no broom or Floo Powder, and otherwise had no options of magical transportation. Unless he wanted to start throwing spells left and right to attract the attention of the Ministry, he would have to find a new way home. Unless—

Sirius leapt to his feet, grabbing his suitcase, and hurried out of the train station. He couldn't believe he had almost forgotten all about the Knight Bus. He had never taken it before, but Sirius had overheard older students talking about being stranded in Wales on holiday.

The street outside was busy and crammed in spite of the awful weather, and Sirius looked both ways from the alley he stood in before slipping out his wand and quickly waving it once. There was a loud _BANG _and suddenly a violet triple-decker bus appeared.

Sirius breathed an enormous sigh of relief; he wouldn't be stuck in the train station after all.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transportation for the stranded witch or wizard," came a female voice. A middle-aged witch with wild orange hair and a few missing teeth appeared, and stopped to look Sirius up and down. "Lost, huh?"

"Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place," said Sirius, ignoring her question.

"That's eight sickles," she said, punching out a receipt.

Sirius handed over the money, and the witch stepped back to let Sirius pass.

The bus was crammed with various cozy-looking armchairs that weren't secured. Overhead hung a chandelier covered in dried wax. The driver, an old man who really ought to be wearing glasses if one was judging by the way he peered through the windshield with his face all but pressed against the glass. Sirius took a seat in one of the more secure-looking armchairs, and then the bus was off with another violent bang. Sirius watched as scenery whizzed by; trees and muggle cars leapt out of the path of the bus, and one by one occupants exited at their destinations. Finally the scenery returned to that of central London, and Sirius sighed with relief when his street suddenly came into view. The bus stopped rather violently, and Sirius nearly flew face-first out of his seat in the process.

Sirius ran a hand through his snow-flaked hair and straightened his coat and scarf. His mother had better have a perfectly reasonable excuse for abandoning her son at King's Cross. Sirius marched up the steps to his house and reached out a frozen hand to knock a little too roughly on the door. Several long seconds passed, and for a split second Sirius wondered if perhaps something unfortunate had happened. Then, before the thought could run wild in his mind, the heavy door opened and Kreacher stood in the doorway.

"Master Sirius," Kreacher greeted, dropping into a ridiculously low bow.

"Is Mother home?" Sirius asked the elf, stepping inside. He could feel himself shaking with adrenaline, but wasn't sure if he was quite ready to demand an explanation from someone like Walburga.

"She is in the drawing room, sir," said Kreacher, slamming the front door shut.

Sirius peeled out of his coat and handed his things to Kreacher without looking at him. "Put these in my room for me."

"Yes, sir."

Sirius clenched and unclenched his fists. There was no reason to be afraid. Walburga had clearly abandoned him, and if she was sitting leisurely in her drawing room, there was no excuse for it. Sirius took a steadying breath then marched up the flight of stairs and down the corridor with purpose. He didn't bother to knock, let alone wait for an invitation, and instead opened the door to his mother's drawing room unannounced.

Walburga's head snapped up, and on her face was a mask of clear confusion. "Why are you home so early?"

Sirius's rehearsed demand for an explanation was almost derailed by the unexpected question. "You were supposed to pick me up from the train," he said, voice full of careful control.

"Yes, tonight," said Walburga indifferently, turning back to the letter she was writing. "I was under the impression that the train didn't arrive until six o'clock."

"I wrote you and told you it would be in at two," Sirius continued. His bravery was faltering in the face of his indifferent mother.

"Then I was obviously mistaken," she said apathetically, still looking at her letter and not at Sirius. There was a long silence, and Sirius had expected Walburga to at least apologize, or inquire as to how her son made it safely home.

"I had to take the Knight Bus," Sirius continued, brows knitting together. An unfamiliar anger was forming in the pit of his stomach. "It was that or walk—"

Walburga slammed her quill down and turned to face her son directly. "Sirius, what are you expecting me to say? I have already told you I thought the train would be in at six, and instead it was in at two. You're home now, so obviously the matter has been resolved. Now unless you have something more kind to say to me, I would like to finish my letter peacefully."

Sirius felt like he had just been slapped. A frustrating and embarrassing display of emotion was beginning to burn behind his eyes, but Sirius refused to let his mother see his weakness. Sirius set his jaw and swept silently from the room—a bold move, even in anger. He marched up the stairs loudly to his bedroom and slammed the door shut before locking it.

Sirius balled his hands into fists and dug them into either side of his head while he paced his room. Even privately he hated crying; Sirius had once managed to go over a year without shedding a single tear, and he wasn't about to make weeping a habit now. Walburga had abandoned Sirius at the train station, hadn't been the least bit worried about him, and even went as far as to insinuate it was a small matter.

Sirius forced in a steadying breath; perhaps Walburga was right. Maybe she really did mistake the time for the train, maybe not—either way Sirius had obviously made it home safely, so what was the use in being upset?

There came a hesitant knock on the door. Sirius wiped at his eyes angrily, straightening his sweater and setting his face into neutral lines before opening it.

It was Regulus.

Sirius let out the breath he didn't realize he had been holding, and stepped back to let his younger brother in.

"You okay?" Regulus asked hesitantly, sitting on the edge of Sirius's bed. Sirius flopped back onto the mattress, glaring at the ceiling. "I heard you stomp up the stairs."

"It really isn't a big deal," Sirius said aloud, more to convince himself than his brother. "Mother got the times wrong, and didn't pick me up from the train."

Regulus turned slightly to get a better look at him. "So how did you get home?"

"I took the Knight Bus," Sirius said dully.

"Really?" The shock and awe was all too evident in Regulus's voice, and it made a small crack in the angry wall surrounding Sirius. "What was it like? How did you find it?"

"Well, it's easy to flag down," said Sirius, calmer now. "You just wave your hand—" He gestured with an invisible wand toward the ceiling. "—and _bang_! It appears right in front of you. It can take you anywhere in Britain."

"And Mother didn't care you were _on _it?"

Sirius gave a sort of half-shrug. The whole ordeal was less terrifying in retrospect, and he almost felt brave and a little reckless telling Regulus the story.

"I guess not—you know, all kinds of people ride that thing—hags and warlocks—maybe even a troll—"

"You saw a _troll_?"

"No, but someone in my House said they did."

There was a pregnant pause. They had reached the subject of Sirius being in Gryffindor already.

"It was kind of surprising to hear," said Regulus quietly after a few long moments. "Mother was angry, but Grandfather told her it doesn't change anything—"

"So she _was _ignoring me," said Sirius, sitting upright.

Regulus shrugged. "I guess—she didn't really talk about you much, unless Aunt Druella or Aunt Lucretia were over."

"Is Grandfather home? Father?"

"No, they're both out," said Regulus idly.

Of course. No one could be bothered to hear about how Sirius's first term at Hogwarts had gone, and no one bothered to know if he made it home safely.

"At least _you're _glad to see me," Sirius mumbled.

"Of course I am," said Regulus with such obvious conviction that Sirius's face broke into a smile and his sour mood lifted. "Do you have any idea what it's been like, stuck in this house alone? I almost want to increase the frequency of my lessons with Ms. Bole just so that Mother has less opportunity to harass me."

"Harass you about what?"

Regulus gave a sort of half-shrug. "Blood purity, social standing—that sort of thing."

Sirius sighed. "Er, you know I didn't do any of this on purpose, right? I didn't exactly choose Gryffindor—"

"You didn't?" Regulus asked, genuinely surprised.

Sirius's frown returned. "Of course not—that Hat doesn't let you choose—if it had, I would most certainly be in Slytherin."

Regulus nodded his understanding. "That makes sense—only Mother's gone around telling Father and Grandfather that you're rebelling or something. 'A deliberate display of poor manners and an insult to your upbringing'," he quoted.

Sirius snorted at that. "What would she have me do? I can't ignore everyone in my House just because of their lack of blood purity, or—or their propriety. I _have _made efforts to become acquainted with those in Slytherin, but…" Sirius's voice trailed off. "It's difficult, because they know I don't belong, and yet I don't belong in my own House either."

"Maybe I'll get Sorted into Gryffindor, too," said Regulus quietly.

Sirius gave him a sad smile. "No, you will make it into Slytherin, I know you will. I certainly wish you were starting Hogwarts sooner—a friendly face would be nice."

Regulus checked his watch. "Oh—oh no, it's already past four." Regulus leapt to his feet and turned to his brother expectantly. "Are you coming? Mother will kill us if we skip the reading hour."

Sirius let out a long breath. "No," he finally said, defiant. "Not until Mother apologizes to me."

Regulus gave Sirius a knowing look before sweeping out of the room. "Good luck."

Sirius had considered skipping dinner as well, but knew his mother would starve him out—there would be no convincing Kreacher to sneak him food after everyone had gone to bed. So with a belly full of dread Sirius descended the stairs at exactly six-thirty.

His parents and Regulus were already seated, but there was no place for Grandfather Arcturus—Sirius supposed he would be home late again. Regulus gave Sirius an encouraging smile, Orion merely glanced up at him over the evening paper, and Walburga might as well have been radiating poisonous gas to accompany the look she was giving her eldest son.

Kreacher filled everyone's drinks and brought out the first course.

"How is Hogwarts?" Orion asked civilly, taking a sip of his wine. Orion had never been affectionate or particularly emotional. It seemed the concept of children mostly baffled him, and he let Walburga take care of the child-rearing. Sirius was sure his Father was grateful for his sons reaching an age where he could discuss school and politics, and less about play rooms and childhood squabbling.

"It's…" Sirius began, unsure of how to respond. "As well as one can expect, I suppose, given my Sorting."

Walburga's dark eyes bored into him, and Sirius turned to look at her. "Did you get my letter about being Sorted into Gryffindor, Mother?" he asked bravely.

"I did," she said stiffly. "What's next, Sirius? Are you going to throw all your senses out the window, too? Step all over your expensive and difficult upbringing?"

"No," Sirius replied in tones of forced calm. "I have done my part to uphold the family name at school—"

Walburga laughed coldly at that. "I should think not! Narcissa has told me all about your blood-traitor friends."

"Well, that's news to me," said Sirius before he could stop himself. It was never a good idea to argue with Walburga when she was already angry. "And if Cissy doesn't like who I speak to, then perhaps she and the others could stop ignoring me at school—"

"Wait, what are they doing?" Orion cut in.

Sirius faltered, not expecting his Father's sudden concern. "They, er, ignore me most of the time," Sirius replied. "Narcissa invites me to sit with them at Quidditch, and Andromeda does make it a point to say hello to me in the corridors, but otherwise I'm left in the company of strictly my own House."

"Perhaps if you were not a constant source of embarrassment—"

Orion shot his wife a warning look. "No," he said sternly, suddenly sounding very much like Arcturus. "I don't care which House Sirius is in—he can be down in the Greenhouses for all I care—but Druella's children will _not _treat him this way. That Lucius Malfoy, especially—if he wants to marry Narcissa, then he most certainly will respect Sirius's place in the family. Disrespecting Sirius is a slight against the entire family."

Walburga pursed her lips and a dangerous look flashed in her eyes. She suddenly looked very much like a hungry predator. "Very well," she said stiffly, turning back to her own plate. "Would you like to tell Druella yourself, or shall I do it?"

"I don't trust that woman with anything sensible to say," said Orion bitingly. "I will speak to Pollux myself."

The rest of dinner passed in painful silence. Sirius was grateful for his Father sticking up for him, but knew it would only further fuel his Mother's cold anger. She wouldn't dare directly disobey her husband, but she would certainly find a way to make her displeasure known. Sirius could only hope he was back in the safety of Hogwarts when it happened.

"Are you going to tell Father about the Knight Bus?" Regulus asked as he and Sirius made their way back upstairs for the night. Orion had retreated angrily into his study, slamming the door.

"No," said Sirius dully. "It really doesn't matter anymore—besides, I don't want Mother to kill me."

* * *

><p>Sirius had hoped the tension would have subsided by morning, but he wasn't naiive enough to think that a single night's rest would be enough to turn the tide of Walburga's wrath.<p>

Orion had already left for the office that morning, and so it was only Sirius, Regulus, and their mother at the breakfast table. Kreacher placed plates of eggs in front of each Black before retiring quickly out of the room. Walburga was reading over the _Daily Prohpet, _stirring sugar into her tea absentmindedly. Sirius had been expecting Walburga to scream at him this morning, but it seemed she really was over it.

Sirius picked up his heavy silverware and slit open his eggs; as soon as he did, several beetles came pouring out.

"Ugh!"

Sirius shoved his plate away from him; Walburga and Regulus turned to look at him.

"There are _beetles _in my food!" Sirius exclaimed.

Walburga pulled the plate toward her and examined it silently. "I see nothing wrong," she said coolly, shoving the plate back across the table toward Sirius.

Sirius felt his mouth drop open. Regulus was looking between him and their mother in stunned silence. Sirius stared at his mother in disbelief, but she had turned back to her paper with cool unconcern. He looked back down at his plate, and shoved it away from himself a second time before standing up and sweeping silently from the room. Regulus watched him out of the corner of his eye, but Walburga didn't so much as blink.

Sirius marched upstairs to his bedroom, furiously wiping at his eyes. He would not cry _again _so soon, and not over something as pathetic as a lack of breakfast.

Lunch passed in much the same manner, and Sirius—disheartened—merely swept from the room in stony silence. He knew he would at least eat at dinner; Walburga wouldn't dare behave this way in front of Orion and Arcturus.

Yet come dinner, the two eldest Black patriarchs were nowhere to be found, undoubtedly staying late at work once again. Sirius didn't bother to head downstairs this time, instead staring gloomily at his bedroom ceiling and trying to fight the hunger twisting in his stomach. He half-expected Walburga to send Kreacher after him—he and Regulus were never allowed to skip meals—but no one knocked on his door until nearly midnight.

"I brought you something," Regulus whispered, despite being at least three floors above their mother's bedroom. He held out his hands, and inside a napkin were several asparagus spears and boiled potatoes. "It's not much, but it's all I could sneak from the table without Mother noticing."

"Thanks," said Sirius gratefully, taking the food.

"How long do you think Mother's going to do this?" Regulus asked quietly.

Sirius shrugged, stuffing the food into his mouth. "Dunno," he said, swallowing. "Can't be forever, right?"

To be exact, Walburga withheld all meals Orion or Arcturus weren't present at for exactly four days. Regulus did his best to sneak food wherever possible, but it always ended up being table scraps here and there. It wasn't until Sirius was visibly weak with hunger that Walburga finally sent Kreacher upstairs one afternoon just before Christmas to fetch him for lunch.

"Mistress is requesting you to come downstairs."

Sirius, who was sitting in the frozen window reading, looked up. "Are there still bugs in my food?" he asked flatly.

Kreacher merely bowed flat to the floor before disappearing with a loud crack.

Sirius sighed, getting to his feet. He hadn't bothered to dress appropriately during his self-banishment to the safety of his room, and had to dig through his wardrobe for a clean sweater to hide his wrinkled shirt. Sirius combed his hair back hastily, vaguely reflecting on the need to cut it again, before heading downstairs. Trepidation was creeping up Sirius's neck; he was done fighting with his Mother. He could only hope she felt the same.

"It's about time you joined us," said Walburga conversationally when Sirius had entered the dining room. Regulus looked up at him hopefully.

Sirius took his seat, carefully examining his food for any trace of beetles or cockroaches. Finding none, Sirius breathed a sigh of relief. He and Regulus exchanged looks, but Sirius didn't want to spoil the end of this cold war by starting up a new one. He would keep his mouth shut and let his Mother be the victor.

"Your cousins will be joining us for Christmas this year," Walburga told them. "I have given a preliminary menu to Kreacher, and your Aunt Druella is bringing her own Elf over, but I will need to know which deserts you prefer. Sirius, I have already sent Kreacher out with the ingredients for cherry tart."

Sirius swallowed hard over the lump in his throat. He had mental whiplash. "Thank you, Mother."

* * *

><p>Christmas, thankfully, was the pleasant affair it always was. The Black house had been tastefully decoratedwith fairy lights and mistletoe, and an enormous tree had been moved into the largest sitting room. The mantle was dressed handsomely in seasonal décor, and presents were soon piling up under the tree.<p>

The break may have had a rocky start, but Sirius was enormously grateful for the turn events had taken. He had thought Hogwarts was difficult, and he certainly wasn't ready for the same mental torture at home. Walburga had returned to normal, and Sirius even overheard her happily gossiping to the others in the family about his performance in school.

"Top of all his classes, of course. Slughorn recognized his talent immediately, and immediately inducted him into that little club of his."

"Has it been much issue having the boy in Gryffindor?" Aunt Lucretia asked.

Sirius and Regulus were huddled in the hallway, eavesdropping on their Mother and Aunts for hints of their Christmas presents.

"None whatsoever," said Walburga firmly. "It was a surprise, to be sure—but a pleasant one. With the direction that school is heading, it is very fortunate that the Black heir be blessed with such a strong personality. I do love my brother, but Alphard's rather soft in that regard."

"But aren't you worried about what will become of his social standing while in Gryffindor?" someone else asked.

"That House is absolutely riddled with blood-traitors and filth," came their cousin Bellatrix's voice.

"Sirius is perfectly capable of navigating through the social structure at that school," Walburga was saying. Sirius thought it was odd to hear her praising him. "I do hope that Regulus ends up in Slytherin, however. He's too soft and very unlike his brother, and I fear he might end up in Hufflepuff."

Sirius stole a glance at Regulus, who was getting to his feet. Sirius hastily followed after him, but didn't dare to call his brother's name until they were well out of earshot.

"Hufflepuff!" Regulus exclaimed miserably. "She thinks I'll end up in Hufflepuff!"

"Hufflepuff isn't a _bad _house," Sirius said placatingly. "I didn't end up in Slytherin, and—"

"Yes, but she _thought _you would," Regulus said accusingly, pale eyes filled with furious tears. "She doesn't even expect me to make it in. I'm too _soft. _I'm a pushover, like Uncle Alphard—"

"Regulus—"

"It's easy for you not to be upset," Regulus snapped. "Everyone thinks you're so brilliant, _and _you're the heir. What have I got?"

Sirius opened his mouth to speak, but found he was unable to say anything that would comfort his brother because Regulus was right. Regulus would always be second-best; the second son, the second in line to the title, and the second in natural talent. If Sirius was honest with himself, he wouldn't be surprised to see his brother in Hufflepuff, but that certainly wasn't a bad thing.

"Whatever, it doesn't even matter," said Regulus miserably. "The only thing they expect me to do is have a respectable marriage and sons. I'm not special."

Before Sirius could reply, Kreacher suddenly appeared next to them. He shot them both a narrowed look that told Sirius the Elf knew they had been listening to Walburga's conversation. Dropping into a bow, he said, "Mistress wants the boys to join her for tea, now."

Regulus furiously wiped at his eyes, and they only joined Walburga and the others when Sirius assured his brother that his face no longer held any signs of weeping.

That wouldn't do in Walburga's company.


	6. Detention

Chapter six:

Sirius returned to Hogwarts in early January with a new mindset. He had turned twelve on New Year's Eve, and was no longer a child. Two and a half weeks with his family had been refreshing; Sirius would no longer be cowed by the hostility of his peers at school. If his father could stand up to Walburga and still share a marriage with her, then Sirius could stand up to the members of his House when they acted without propriety.

His cousins, of course, had received a frightening talking-to by Grandfather Pollux. Narcissa in particular was reminded that her anticipated engagement to Malfoy was not final, and he could revoke permission if she couldn't keep her "silly head on straight." Narcissa had spent the better part of Christmas Eve morning sulking in the corner, but had amended her attitude toward Sirius by lunchtime. Sirius didn't believe her actions were genuine for a moment, but at least she was no longer hostile. She had obviously had a discussion with Malfoy, because instead of goading Sirius about his "blood-traitor friends" he merely looked the other way when he caught Sirius and Remus sitting together on the train.

"How was your Christmas?" Sirius asked as the train left King's Cross and began the journey north.

"It was good," said Remus, smiling. He looked like he genuinely meant it. "We had dinner with my mum's family Christmas Eve—you should have seen my dad's face, he's still not quite used to the way muggles live. And then Christmas day was spent at my grandparent's house on Dad's side—I haven't seen them in years. Other than that, I mostly used the break to catch up in schoolwork, and to try to read ahead a little. How was your holiday?"

Sirius hesitated. It was a loaded question. It was certainly a productive holiday, but void of the pleasant laziness Remus had just described. "It was…well, I'm afraid I don't know how to describe it," Sirius admitted.

Remus frowned. "Really? I mean, what are Christmases like at your house?"

"Well, every year the top level Ministry employees have a Ball on Christmas Eve, so we all attend that," said Sirius, biting his lip as he thought. "And then there's the actual Christmas dinner with the whole extended family. We're running out of room at the formal dining table, and my mother had to figure out how to extend it without damaging the room. Then my birthday falls on New Year's Eve, and there's usually another party for that."

"That sounds…like work," Remus finally settled on, chuckling.

Sirius laughed at that. "Yes, I suppose you're right. The events can certainly be enjoyable, but when there are so many in close proximity…I suppose I will just say that my break was very productive." Sirius forced a smile onto his face. While break was by no means unpleasant, Sirius couldn't help fight the anxious feeling it had left him with.

Remus was not one to fill every quiet space with conversation, and so the two boys spent most of the train ride to Hogwarts in a peaceful quiet. It wasn't until after the lunch trolley came through that Sirius offered to pull out his chess set.

"I've just been given a new one," he told Remus, setting up the pieces. They were made of white alabaster and jet black marble. The board itself was a handsome piece, carved intricately out of bocote and curly maple. It had been a gift from Orion, who was himself a master at wizarding chess and had been the Hogwart's school champion and club Head in his day.

Remus was examining the pieces with interest. "I've only ever played muggle chess," he said. "Dad doesn't care for it, but Mum taught me how to play."

"The rules are the same," Sirius told him. "But you'll see that the pieces move themselves—here, I'll show you. Knight to E-five." The pieces of the board stepped forward, and Remus watched in awe as one of the pawns was destroyed.

"That's…rather violent," Remus commented, giving Sirius a small smile.

"And a bit more exciting than muggle chess, I'm sure."

They played several games that seemed to go on forever—neither Sirius nor Remus were particularly good at the game, but they were happy to practice with one another nonetheless.

"Would you like to see what my Christmas gift was?" Remus had asked after the second game was a draw. He reached inside his suitcase and withdrew a heavy-looking wooden box affixed with various metal knobs. He opened the shallow lid to reveal more odd parts Sirius didn't recognize.

"It's a record player," Remus told him. "My Mum found it, and my Dad helped enchant it so that the magic at school wouldn't affect it too much."

Sirius leaned closer to get a good look at it. "What does it do?"

"It plays music—muggle music. My parents got me a few records to go with it," he said, handing Sirius a small stack of thin folders with names he didn't recognize. The Rolling Stones, Rush, Pink Floyd, someone called the Velvet Underground—whatever that was—and The Beatles. "My dad's a huge fan of rock music, so he gave me some of his favorites. It's his favorite thing to come out of the muggle world."

Sirius opened up one of the cardboard sleeves—inside was a thin, black plate. "I've never heard rock music before," he admitted to Remus with a sheepish grin. "My Mother only allows us to listen to classical music or her favorite stations on our Wireless."

Remus grinned widely at that. "Here," he said, taking one of the records at random and placing it in the player. He set a delicate-looking needle on the end of it, turned a few knobs, and suddenly the compartment was filled with an ungodly cacophony of fast-paced noise. Sirius looked at nothing in particular, listening to the strange but catchy record. It was literally the antithesis of the music Sirius knew, but there was something oddly alluring about the rebellious noise.

"This is really interesting!" Sirius finally said, speaking loudly over the music.

Remus laughed at that. "Rush. A lot different from what you're used to, I'm sure."

Sirius picked up a few more records, examining their various covers. "Can we hear more?"

Remus switched the record out, and this one was much mellower—softer guitar chords and a heavy, beating drum in the background. "This one's The Velvet Underground," Remus told him. "They're my dad's favorite."

They got through the end of the record before the train creeped into Hogsmede station. Remus and Sirius packed up their belongings that had exploded around the compartment, and followed the shivering crowd toward the enchanted carriages.

There was a thick blanket of snow surrounding the school, and the edges of the enormous lake had frozen over. The Christmas trees lining the entrance hall and corridors had been removed, but the baubles and fairy lights were still in place. Sirius and Remus headed for their dormitory, which was packed with students milling about, discussing their respective holidays and showing off presents.

James and Peter were already in the dorm room when Sirius and Remus arrived. Sirius set his chessboard delicately inside his trunk while Remus placed his new muggle record player on the mantle. James and Peter were notably silent, and Sirius couldn't help but wonder if his presence had somehow interrupted a secret conversation.

"Did you two have a good Christmas?" Remus asked them kindly, setting up his records.

"The best," James said, digging through the mess covering his bed and withdrawing a Nimbus 1000. "I still can't believe Mum and Dad got me a broom! I can't wait to try out for the team next year—there's supposed to be two spots open, both Chaser." James turned the broom over in his hands before laying it down delicately in his trunk, a complete contrast to the haphazard mess that was the rest of his belongings.

"Still not as cool as—"

Sirius saw James kick Peter out of the corner of his eye. The blonde boy fell silent, clearing his throat. They both looked around hastily; Sirius pretended to ignore them, and Remus clearly had not heard them.

"What about you, Black?" James said loudly in a poor attempt to redirect attention. "Got any new Dark artifacts you'd like to show us?"

Remus whipped around, a heavy frown on his face. "James, don't you think that's rather rude?"

James raised an eyebrow, looking from Remus to Sirius. "What, are you two friends, now?"

Sirius opened his mouth to retort, but James kept going.

"You snogging as well?"

Sirius turned to give James a long, scathing look. "Shut the fuck up." The words left Sirius's mouth before he could stop himself, but there was something undeniably satisfying with the word "fuck" that no respectable word could match.

James roared with laughter at that, and Peter let out an unsure chuckle. "Merlin, maybe the dirty classes really are rubbing off on you. What does Mrs. Black think of that mouth?" James asked, wiping mirth from his eyes.

Anger flared in Sirius's chest at the insult, and he had drawn his wand before he could think to stop himself.

The laughter disappeared from James and Peter's faces, and James got to his feet, searching the sloppy bed for his own wand.

"Sirius, put that away!" Remus barked, blocking their view. "What are you thinking?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" James demanded, suddenly on edge. "It was a _joke. _No need to blow us all up, you nutter!"

The rage was at a boiling point, and Sirius had no idea why. He shoved his wand back in its place before storming out of the dormitory.

"He's _insane_!" came Peter's squeaky voice.

"Just leave him alone," was Remus's reasonable tone, fading away with each rough footstep Sirius took to get away from the tower. "There was no reason to antagonize him…"

Sirius shoved past the students settling into the tower, showing off their Christmas presents, and made a beeline for his favorite empty Astronomy tower. The cold air was refreshing and brought Sirius back to reality. He slumped down on the windowsill, suddenly overwhelmed by shame at his over-reaction. James was a prat, but what he had said wasn't _that _bad, really…it just got under Sirius's skin whenever someone thought he wouldn't meet Walburga's standards.

Sirius knew he should apologize, but the prospect at admitting he had made a mistake felt like accepting a death sentence. But it was _James_. Who cared if he accepted the apology or not…

Sirius ran his hands through his hair distractedly. Maybe it would be worth it to research disillusionment charms. Merlin knew it would be unbearable to face his dormitory mates again after he had snapped so easily. Sirius would just have to maintain better control over his emotions…his parents had always said he and Regulus wore their hearts on their sleeves far too often than was acceptable. He would just have to apologize and never, ever snap in front of someone again.

When the cold became too much to bear and the pangs of hunger in his stomach too pronounced to ignore, Sirius got stiffly to his feet and headed toward the Great Hall, which was filled with students ready for dinner. Remus was sitting alone at their usual place near the end of the table, and Sirius hesitated for a second before making a determined beeline for him.

Remus smiled when he caught sight of him. "I was wondering whether you had decided to skip dinner."

Sirius dropped into the seat next to him, running a hand through his hair again. "No—I, er, needed some fresh air."

"Understandable," said Remus patiently. Sirius gave him a long look, searching his features for any sign of deception. No one had ever taken one of Sirius's explanations at face-value before. But Remus's face was calm, friendly, and he smiled again when he dropped a large spoonful of pheasant onto Sirius's plate. "Try that, it melts in your mouth."

Sirius was torn between demanding to know if Remus was mad at him and the desire to pretend his outburst in their dorm had never happened. He settled for following Remus's lead, and filled his plate the rest of the way with food. Half of break had been spent being starved out by Walburga's stubborn disposition, and so Sirius suddenly felt famished.

Dinner was a remarkably normal affair, and even James and Peter had made no comment when they all retired to their dormitory for the night. James was busy attempting to enchant a set of Dungbombs while Peter skimmed through a copy of the _Daily Prophet. _

It was no reason to let his guard down, however. The Gryffindors might not be as calculating as Walburga, but Sirius would have to take care to keep his emotions in check from now on.

* * *

><p>Sirius woke with a start when a heavy object suddenly collided with his head. He looked around in sleepy irritation; James was standing on his trunk, throwing his last remaining pillow at Peter.<p>

"Wake up sleepy heads!" he yelled, jumping off his trunk with dramatic flair. "New term starts now!"

Sirius threw James's pillow off his bed and checked his watch. It was barely a quarter to seven. Sirius buried his face in his own pillow. "Are you insane, Potter?" he said into the fabric, voice muffled.

"'S goin' on?" Peter mumbled, rolling over.

James rushed over and squeezed his cheeks. Peter slapped his hands away. "You're going to be late for Transfiguration, Petey!"

Sirius pulled his pillow over his head.

"Class doesn't start until nine," came Remus's tired voice from somewhere nearby.

"Did the Founders wait until _after breakfast _to build Hogwarts? Did Albus Dumbledore wait until the weekend to defeat Grindelwald?" James replied much too loudly. Sirius heard him fling the dormitory door open. "See you ladies at breakfast!"

James's annoyingly good mood lasted all morning. He had followed some Third Year Hufflepuff girls down the corridor to class singing loudly, egged on by their giggling. He had gone up and down the Gryffindor table at breakfast, shaking everyone's hand and wishing them a good morning. Lily Evans had refused to acknowledge James's antics, insisting he was going to lose them House points. James ignored her, turning his attention to her friends Mary and Marlene instead.

"What has got him so fired up?" Sirius asked at lunch, watching James regale a group of fifth years with his jokes.

Remus looked up from his plate. "I'm not sure. I think it's safe to say he obviously had a good break."

The antics only further increased by the time afternoon classes rolled around. James had sent a handful of dungbombs sailing down the main staircase, where they rolled for five floors before a professor had the sense to Banish them away. After accumulating three separate detentions from different professors, James spent the free period between classes and dinner to enchant snowballs to follow various Slytherins around.

"Well, I suppose Potter's finally learned to master the Levitation Charm," Sirius commented to Remus. They were standing in a second floor outdoor corridor, looking over the edge of the windows to watch the scene in the courtyard beneath them.

"He's going to get into so much trouble," Remus said, shaking his head.

A snowball hit Snape square in the face. Sirius and Remus both grimaced at the sight. Then, before anyone could quite react, Snape whipped out his wand and aimed it straight at James. There was a loud _bang _and James was thrown off his feet.

Sirius and Remus bolted for the stairs, taking them three at a time. Sirius reached the scene first, wand out. James was trying to climb out of the snowy embankment he had landed in, but Snape was advancing on him.

"_Expelliarmus!" _Sirius roared. He had never tried to practice the spell on a real opponent before, but the word left his mouth before he could consider this fact.

Snape's wand shot out of his hand, landing halfway in the snow between himself and Sirius.

There was a split second's pause that felt entirely like a lifetime in which everyone present stared at each other. Then, snapping back to life, Snape ran forward to retrieve his wand. Before he had gotten more than a few steps, a black object suddenly dove at him, knocking Snape to the ground.

James and Snape were wrestling in the snow; Snape was taller, but James was clearly stronger. All the students were watching the fight, stunned, and only took off like startled cats when McGonagall suddenly appeared. She whipped out her wand, and a second later, James and Snape were separated.

"Just _what _is the meaning of this?" she demanded. She looked around at the few students who were too slow to run off in time, and caught sight of Sirius with his wand out. "Black! You, Potter, and Snape follow me."

"Professor, I didn't do anything—" Sirius tried, but McGonagall ignored him. "My office. _Now."_

The three boys shot each other scathing looks, but did as they were told. McGonagall didn't speak until they were all seated in her office. The door slammed shut, and Sirius jumped.

"Fighting is _never _tolerated," she reprimanded them. "What happened that would cause three First Years to cause a scene in the middle of the courtyard?"

"Potter attacked me first, Professor," said Snape immediately. He and Potter were covered in snow. Sirius saw that he had a large bruise rising around his left eye. Potter's nose was bleeding. "And then Black here joined him—"

"I disarmed you!" Sirius said, rounding on him. "You're the one who went after Potter with a curse over something as stupid as a snowball—"

"I didn't need your help!" James chimed in hotly.

"Enough!" McGonagall was glaring at all of them. "Ten points from both Slytherin and Gryffindor for your ridiculous display outside. And you will each serve detention—"

Sirius's mouth dropped open. He had never been in trouble at school before. "Professor-!"

"No, Black—" she interrupted. "Even if you entered the fight with good intentions, it is never tolerated or advised to respond to violence with violence! You still entered the fight, so you will serve detention. Snape, your Head of House will be informed of today's events, and arrange your detention. Black and Potter, I must say I expected better of two Gryffindors."

Sirius and James shot each other scathing looks.

"You two share the same House, and you will learn to get along," she continued. "Therefore you will share your detention with me tonight at seven. You are to meet me in the entrance hall, and you will receive an additional detention if you're so much as a minute late. Now," she said, standing up. "I had better see better behavior from all of you. You're excused."

Snape marched out of the office quickly, looking very much like some kind of bat with his long hair and oversized robes. James determinedly ignored Sirius, stepping past him roughly as he headed toward the Great Hall for dinner. Sirius rolled his eyes, shaking his head to himself.

Remus was waiting in the entrance hall for him. "What happened?"

"I got detention," Sirius replied bitterly. "Tonight at seven."

Remus frowned. "Why? You were trying to help—"

"Yes, well, apparently 'it is not tolerated to respond to violence with violence'," he replied, imitating McGonagall's strict tone. He ran a hand through his hair distractedly. "Whatever—let's eat. I only have an hour before I have to get this detention over with."

That hour, of course, passed much too quickly for Sirius's liking. He and James stood patiently in the entrance hall as ordered, careful to keep several meters between them. McGonagall met them there, gave them a stern look, then said, "Follow me."

Sirius and James did as instructed, and they walked past the Transfiguration classrooms, toward the direction of the owlery. "The trophy room is in need of some cleaning," McGonagall told them over her shoulder. "You two will dust and polish every piece in this wing—your detention will be complete when your work is."

It sounded like an easy enough punishment. Walburga used to make Sirius clean doxies out of the guest bedroom curtains bare-handed if he misbehaved.

That was, of course, until he saw the sheer size of the trophy room—it wasn't a room so much as a wide corridor crammed with shelves and glass cases, all covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. Filch, the caretaker, was standing there with several rags and spray bottles. He dropped a large bucket on the stone floor, and an enormous spider came rushing out. James jumped out of its path, earning a sharp look from McGonagall.

"I will be in my office, and I expect you two to come report to me when you're finished," she continued. "I hope to never give two of my own students detention again."

Filch gave them an unpleasant smirk. "Have at it, boys," he said, disappearing down the corridor.

Sirius and James took in the mess before grabbing a handful of cleaning rags each. They deliberately chose opposite sides of the corridor, determinedly not looking at each other.

As Sirius examined a particularly nasty cobweb with a fat spider at its center, he reflected on the fact that McGonagall had never forbade them from using magic—no doubt she just assumed a couple of First Year boys wouldn't know the proper spell. Sirius glanced over his shoulder to make sure it was only James with him, cleared his throat quietly, and pointed his wand at the mess.

"_Scourgify!" _

The cobwebs disappeared, but there was still a layer of grime on the cabinets. _Good enough, _Sirius thought to himself. He cleared his whole side of the trophy room, pausing only to go over some areas twice or read names on the trophies. There were awards to various students throughout the years for services to the school, old photographs of various Quidditch teams, and in the very center of the room, the House Cup. While Sirius worked, he recognized various family names on awards presented for top N.E.W.T. scores or Quidditch game wins.

"What are you doing?"

Sirius turned around to see James watching him. There was a fine layer of dust on his clothes, and his hands were discolored from scrubbing grime. He had only cleared a small patch of glass on his first cabinet—the rest were still covered in dust and spiderwebs.

"My detention," Sirius replied haughtily.

James's eyes fell pointedly to Sirius's wand.

"McGonagall never forbade us from using magic," Sirius replied defensively, turning back to his work.

"You know a spell for this shit?"

Sirius ignored James's foul language. "Don't think I'll teach it to you—it's your fault I'm even here."

"No, _you're _the one who got in the middle all on your own," James replied. There was a stony silence, then he added, "What was the spell that git Snape used, anyway?"

Sirius began scrubbing at the grime with his rag roughly. He debated ignoring James, but then finally said, "The _Reductor Curse. _Snape's an idiot for using it—it takes a lot of skill to use it on a wizard without seriously maiming them. You're both lucky he didn't blast your arms off."

"So he could have killed me, and all he got was a single bloody detention?" James demanded.

Sirius sighed in irritation. "Don't get worked up at me over it—I'm not the one who assigned the punishment."

"But you know how to duel," James continued. Sirius turned around and saw that the boy had completely given up attempting to clean his side of the room.

"Will you get back to work?" Sirius reprimanded him. "I don't want to be here all night."

"Is that a thing for Dark families?"

Sirius almost broke through the glass he had been scrubbing. He took a steadying breath, then said scathingly, "Yes—we all attend Dark Magic camp prior to Hogwarts."

"Run by Grindelwald?" James asked mockingly.

Sirius turned around again to look at James. "Grindelwald's in prison, you dolt—"

"Duh, I know that," James snapped, wiping his brow with the back of his arm. "Why did you get involved in the fight, anyway?" he asked. "Couldn't resist the urge to curse someone?" he added scathingly.

"If you're trying to make me regret my decision to save you from Snape, you've succeeded admirably."

"You didn't _save _me—"

"How do you know?" Sirius rounded on him. He threw his rag to the floor and turned to face James head on. "You don't even know what we're doing in class half the time—how can you be expected to recognize the curses Snape would have used on you?"

"Sorry," said James sarcastically. "I forgot you're just aces at recognizing Dark magic—"

Sirius's anger was welling up in his chest, and he had to fight the urge to curse James himself. "I really don't know why I even bothered trying to help you," he said bitterly. "You're a complete prat, and you've made it a point to ignore me since you found out my surname—"

"Because you didn't tell me you were a Black!" James interrupted hotly.

"So?" Sirius snapped back. "Does it matter? Your mother's a Black, in case you've forgotten."

James waved a hand dismissively, frowning. "That's not the same thing—she's nowhere near the direct line, and she's certainly not the family heir!"

"Well, in case you're too dim-witted to notice, I've been sorted into Gryffindor and _not _Slytherin!"

Sirius had expected James to lash out at the insult, but instead he regarded Sirius with a dumfounded expression before cracking up in laughter. Sirius frowned, not sure if the boy was perhaps unhinged.

"Yeah, you're right," said James affectionately, wiping the mirth from his eyes, but griming up his glasses in the process. "You're a Gryffindor."

Sirius didn't reply, having not expected this reaction. He folded his arms squarely, waiting for James's inevitable insult.

"So…do you believe in all that Dark Arts stuff, then?"

Sirius's frown deepened. "What do you mean? Like believe it exists?"

"No," said James quickly, rolling his eyes as he fought to explain himself at the look on Sirius's face. "I mean like—follow it. Practice it. That sort of thing."

Sirius let out a sigh. "First of all, I cannot practice it, because I don't have the necessary skill. And even if I could," he added, his thoughts trailing to his mother. "I doubt very much that I would. I respect the Dark Arts, as any sensible wizard should, but I don't believe in killing or torturing someone, if that's what you're getting at."

"What about blood purity? Do you think purebloods are better than everyone else?" James challenged.

"What does it matter to you?" Sirius asked, adjusting his weight on his feet. "You're a pureblood as well." He paused at the expectant look on James's face. "I don't know," he finally allowed in exasperation, looking away. "I think there's a difference, but…" His voice trailed off. Sirius had been brought up to believe that purebloods were the only true wizards, and the only ones worthy of practicing magic. And yet in his short life he had met so many half-blooded witches and wizards who were perfectly adept at practicing magic. This latter fact was only reinforced by his time at Hogwarts, where even muggle-borns were more talented than some of the pureblooded students.

James pursed his lips as he regarded Sirius. "Well, I don't suppose you can grow up in the Black house and not have at least a dozen major facts wrong."

Sirius opened his mouth to retort, but James continued more loudly, "So I guess it means we can be friends."

Sirius stopped mid-thought. He felt mentally derailed. "Friends?" he repeated skeptically.

"Unless I'm too much of a filthy blood-traitor," James teased.

Sirius thought about it for a moment. James irritated him so much, and yet it was still impossible to dislike him.

"So what do you say, Black?"

Sirius regarded the short, wild-haired boy in front of him with dust-covered clothes and grimy glasses. James was the most obnoxious person Sirius had ever met, and while he had never been cruel to Sirius, he hadn't been kind, either. James was, however, a pureblood. His friendship would certainly appease the Black family, if just momentarily.

Before Sirius could answer, Filch appeared from around the corner.

"Back to work!" he barked. "You're here to clean up this godforsaken room, not chit chat! Bloody detention's too soft," he added, muttering to himself. "Whips are the only way to straighten 'em out…"

James and Sirius glared at Filch, hastily picking up their discarded rags and pretending to scrub the trophy cases. Filch continued his quiet tirade of whips and chains as he left the room, shooting both boys a dark look before disappearing again.

James and Sirius scrubbed at their cases in silence for almost an hour—finally Sirius heard James let out a loud, exasperated sigh. He turned to see the boy chuck his rag at the case in front of him. He had only gotten maybe a quarter of the way through, and it was nearing nine o'clock. Sirius turned back to examine his own work—his side of shelves were polished to a high shine, and he had only two cases left to scrub.

"I'm going to die here!" James said loudly to no one in particular. "McGonagall wants to kill me!"

Sirius gave an inward sigh. Making up his mind quickly, he got to his feet and marched over to James, who had somehow managed to become filthier than the shelves he was supposed to be cleaning. "Don't be so dramatic," said Sirius, holding up his wand. "_Scourgify_!"

The cobwebs and dust disappeared instantly—Sirius had gotten better at the spell during his constant use of it on his own side of the room. "Now you won't die in here," he added. "Just likely grow very old."

James smirked at that. "You have to teach me that spell!" he implored. "I've got three other detentions this week, and I bet they're all shit like this! I'll be cleaning for the rest of my life—"

"Then perhaps you should behave," Sirius said without any real conviction. "Or at least learn not to get caught."

James rolled his eyes. "I'm just trying to give everyone a laugh," he said, scratching the back of his neck.

Sirius looked James up and down. The boy was filthy, and could certainly use all the help he could get in the cleaning department. "Oh, all right. Here—the Scouring Charm's just a simple turn of your wrist—a semi circle going clockwise." Sirius demonstrated it for James to see.

James pulled out his own wand and did as Sirius instructed. His eyes were narrowed in concentration, but a second later, the grime had disappeared from the Quidditch trophy in front of them.

"Well, it looks like you really can perform magic," Sirius noted without venom.

"Of course I can," said James, pointing his wand at the next shelf.

"Then why do you have so much trouble in class?"

James shrugged. "Dunno—it all just seems rather boring. If I'm actually interested in it I can do it with no problems—but Transfiguring snuffboxes into tea cups or levitating feathers really isn't my thing. I want to learn human transfiguration, or—or dueling."

Sirius raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I'm sure I don't need to explain the importance of mastering the basics in order to perform magic like that—"

"No," said James, examining his work. "I'm not stupid, I know why First Years start with easy stuff—but you're not the genius you think you are, Black. I've watched you in class—you might know what we're doing, but all your wand movements are very textbook."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Exactly."

James rolled his eyes. "That's good for basic magic, but you need to have a bit more personality behind your spells for the advanced stuff—not everything is so stuffy and dry."

"I didn't realize I was speaking to the expert," Sirius said stiffly, trying not to feel irritated by James's criticism.

James gave him a long look, straightening his glasses. "Don't get so butt-hurt—I'm not saying you're _bad _at magic—any idiot knows you're top in the class. I'm saying that even the likes of you has room to improve, and you're not going to learn everything out of some boring book."

They were quiet the rest of the detention, polishing the trophy cases half-heartedly. Sirius was rounding up the discarded rags while James collected the leftover cleaner when Filch suddenly reappeared. He gave them a nasty look, examining their handy-work. Filch ran his finger along a glass surface, leaving a smudge in its place.

"I expect you'll be back here to clean the _inside _of the cases soon enough," said Filch, shooting James an evil smile. "Lots of creeping, crawling things hidden inside these cabinets."

"We're done, so we'll be going, now," Sirius spoke up, tossing the cleaning rags inside of an empty bucket.

Filch laughed at that. "Not so fast—you'll go when I say you go—"

"It was McGonagall who set the detention," Sirius interrupted, features set into the haughty expression characteristic of the Blacks. "And therefore it will be McGonagall who relieves us—now unless she's under your coat, Potter and I will, in fact, be on our way." Then, ignoring the furious and stunned look on Filch's face, Sirius marched past him. James hesitated but followed, glancing over his shoulder.

"Filch is going to kill you for talking to him like that," James noted.

Sirius shrugged indifferently. "I'd like to see him try. My uncle's on the school Board of Directors."

James rolled his eyes, holding up his hands in a sarcastic gesture. "Whoa there—bringing out the wand on that one."

Sirius shot him a dark look, annoyed, but didn't answer.

McGonagall was grading papers at her desk, and looked up only when James and Sirius had reached her. She looked between the two of them, then turned her attention back to the sixth-year papers in front of her. "You're excused. It's past curfew, so you are to head immediately for your dormitory."

James and Sirius looked at each other quizzically.

"Don't you want to examine the room and make sure we performed the detention correctly?" Sirius asked, frowning. Next to him James blew his fringe out of his face, dropping his weight to one foot.

McGonagall looked up at them without moving. "Do I need to?"

"Well, no—"

"Then I bid you two goodnight," she said pointedly.

_Shut up, _James mouthed to Sirius. _Let's go. _

Both boys turned on their heel, trying not to run out of McGonagall's office before she changed her mind and called them back.


	7. Friend or Foe

Chapter seven:

Sirius was poking at his breakfast absentmindedly, skimming through a third-year Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook he had found in the library when James Potter suddenly dropped into the seat across from him with Peter in tow.

"Merlin," he said, rubbing his eyes and slumping forward on the table. "How are you up this early? And _studying_?"

"It's eight-thirty," Sirius replied hesitantly, unsure if James was perhaps lost.

"Where's Lupin at?" James asked, looking around.

Sirius shrugged, returning to his book. "Out sick."

"_Again?"_

Sirius shrugged again.

James pulled a goblet toward himself, yawning widely. "Blimey, I can't wait to get this Charms exam over with. I was up half the night."

Sirius frowned. He hadn't seen James in the library or the dormitory all night. "Were you studying?"

"No, I was trying to find a shortcut to the kitchens," James said as though this was the most obvious thing in the world.

Peter chuckled at that, and Sirius stared at James with a stunned expression. A thousand patronizing questions were running through Sirius's mind, but he decided it would be best to ignore them all. James was ridiculous, that was certain. "Right. I can only imagine the ravenous appetite studying must induce," Sirius replied, turning back to his book.

"What stick got lodged up your arse?"

Sirius looked up again, shutting his book loudly. James was looking at him with a half-confused, half-annoyed expression. Peter had a fork halfway to his mouth, watching his two housemates with a wary expression.

"I'm not helping you cheat, and I'm not letting you look at my notes, either," Sirius said in irritation.

James raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't care about your notes, Black—what the hell is wrong with you today?"

Sirius grabbed his bookbag and slung it over his shoulder. "Whatever kind of joke you're trying to pull, leave me out of it."

Sirius got as far as the end of Gryffindor table when James suddenly yelled, "I was being _nice, _you wanker!"

Sirius hesitated, feeling every pair of eyes in the Great Hall suddenly land on him. He hitched his bag further onto his shoulder and continued on toward the greenhouses for Herbology without looking back. It would be impossible to hide the embarrassment.

Sirius took his usual seat in the middle of the greenhouse, returning to his chapter on Grindylows while he waited for the class to start. Students trickled in slowly, poking at the freshly-planted Gurdyroots as they went. Sirius had studied ahead for this lesson back in late September, but took out parchment anyway in order to take notes for Remus.

James and Peter trickled in last, plopping down next to a set of Ravenclaw twins. The twin girls had equally spiraled red hair, and giggled at some joke James whispered to them. Sirius caught himself frowning at the site, and cleared his throat before turning back to his parchment. He inked his quill and had barely touched the surface of his parchment when a green, evil-smelling onion landed on his desk and rolled over the side. Sirius jumped and looked up to see James smirking at him, his two red-headed companions giggling.

In spite of himself, Sirius felt his cheeks redden. He straightened up and brushed the dirt off his parchment, refusing to allow James the satisfaction of a reaction.

Professor Sprout, a recent Hogwarts graduate, entered the classroom. Her robes were already covered in soil, and she pulled off a pair of thick dragon-hide gloves as she called the class to attention.

"While our Gurdyroots mature, we will move on to cover their distant cousin, the Mandrake! I have a host of mature mandrakes ready to be re-potted in Greenhouse Two, which we will tackle tomorrow. Now, Mandrakes are also known by their less common name, _Mandragora. _They're a very temperamental root, requiring a cool and damp environment to mature…"

While Professor Sprout spoke, Sirius took out a clean piece of parchment to replace the one James ruined. He added additional information to the notes he took for Remus, adding in details the class wouldn't normally learn until second year.

The quiet Herbology lesson was followed with Astronomy, and Sirius decided to spent lunch in the infirmary with Remus. Sometimes Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let Sirius see him—she always said that he "needed rest" and once Sirius caught sight of Remus's white, exhausted face, he believed her.

"Hello there," he said politely, taking a few hesitant steps forward. Sirius enjoyed Remus's company, but he wasn't sure if their friendship was at the point where he could invade the boy's privacy. Sirius had made it a point to allow Remus to recover in peace; he had no idea what possessed him to drop by the infirmary, but it was too late to turn back.

Remus gave a tired smile. "Hey," he replied hoarsely.

"I brought some lunch," Sirius offered, sitting down on the edge of the bed and handing over the napkin of sandwiches he had brought along. "I took notes for you in class, and I turned in your Astronomy paper."

Remus dropped his gaze. "You didn't have to do that."

Sirius shrugged, looking around the infirmary. It was mostly empty; the beds were made with neat white blankets. Frail winter sunlight crept in through the tall windows. Sirius turned back to Remus. "How are you feeling, if it's not too imprudent of me to ask?"

Remus took a deep breath and forced a smile on his tired face. "Better. Madam Pomfrey thinks I might be able to go back to class tomorrow."

"Well, that's good news. Professor Sinistra was worried about you missing the unit on full moon cycles, but I explained that you were keeping up with your studies in here." Sirius turned back to Remus. Something about the boy's smile was hard, almost forced. It was as though a door had suddenly closed behind his good-natured face. "Don't worry," Sirius added in an undertone. "I'll help you study—I don't mind."

"Right. Thank you."

Sirius's gaze dropped to his hands. Perhaps he was just imagining it, but he had the quiet feeling that Remus wanted him to leave. Perhaps it was improper to have intruded on his privacy in the infirmary after all. Sirius got to his feet, slinging his book bag over his shoulder. "Oh, before I forget—essays are due in Defense Against the Dark Arts today. Would you like for me to hand yours in?"

Remus smacked a hand to his forehead. "Oh, no—oh, I forgot all about that—"

"Is it finished?"

"That's all right," Remus said, letting his hand fall. "I'll ask for an extension and turn it in late. Really, it's fine," he added at the look on Sirius's face. "Don't worry about it. You're gonna be late for class."

* * *

><p>"This seems like a terrible idea."<p>

Though he couldn't see him, Sirius was sure James was rolling his eyes. "Relax, Black—it's not like anyone would believe you'd cause trouble."

Sirius adjusted his weight from one foot to the next, holding the dungbombs in his hands protectively. "That is beside the point—if you're wrong and get caught—"

"When have I ever been wrong?"

Sirius snorted at that before he could stop himself.

"Shut your mouth, Black—"

"I don't believe I said anything."

"All right," came James's voice from underneath the Invisibility Cloak. "Are you going to do this or not?"

Sirius sighed, but peered around the corner of the corridor anyway. "Oh, all right. On three—"

"Two—"

"One."

Sirius chucked the dungbombs as hard as he could, aiming for the whistling suits of armor. The first one fell back into the others, and they all collapsed into a pile of screeching metal. Safely hidden behind the statue of Bonhilde the Bold, Sirius watched as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, a gossipy woman by the name of Elaine Underhill, came rushing out of her office with her nose pinched tight.

"Peeves!" she yelled to the empty corridor. "You son of a bitch, I'll make sure the Headmaster throws you out for this!"

She aimed her wand at the whistling armor, but just as James and Sirius suspected, there was no use. After discovering that it took much more than a Silencing Charm to restore order when some Second Years had knocked into the suits of armor the week before, Sirius decided it would make for the perfect cover. Professor Underhill let out a loud sigh of exasperation before marching down the hall toward the Charms classrooms, no doubt to fetch Flitwick. Sirius watched her disappear around the corner before giving James the all-clear signal. In seconds, quick footsteps scurried past their hiding spot and pushed open Professor Underhill's office door.

Instead of daily homework, Professor Underhill strongly preferred to assign lengthy essays covering weeks at a time. While the First Years were given plenty of time to write their papers, Underhill was notoriously strict about her deadlines, refusing to accept anything even five minutes late. When James and Sirius discovered this rule also applied to illness, they had decided to sneak Remus's essay into her office anyway.

"She'll never know the difference," James had decided.

Sirius hadn't expected James to offer his help with the endeavor, but the boy was determined to help out a fellow Gryffindor. After arguing back and forth over the best way to sneak Remus's essay into Underhill's office, the two boys formed a temporary, awkward alliance. While James was content to just sneak into her quarters under the Invisibility Cloak, Sirius came up with the idea of a diversion as a secondary precaution. After years of sneaking into his father's study with Regulus, Sirius knew that it was always worth it to be over-prepared.

Sirius fidgeted from his hiding spot, silently willing James to hurry up. Not only could the teachers appear at any moment, but the overwhelming stench of the dungbomb was spreading.

Finally the door creaked open again, and Sirius could hear James's footsteps as he hurried past. An invisible tapped the back of Sirius's head, and he smacked it away before hurrying after James toward the safety of the first floor.

"We ought to commemorate today," James said breathlessly, pulling off the Invisibility Cloak when they reached the empty courtyard. "The holiest of days—Black broke a school rule."

"I'll have you know I've broken plenty of school rules," said Sirius loftily. "I'm just a bit cleverer about _not _getting caught doing so."

"It's not as fun without a little risk," James told him, grinning. He stuffed the cloak away in Sirius's book bag and sat down on the courtyard wall lazily. "I have to admit, I was surprised you asked me to help you do this."

"Why?" Sirius asked, leaning against the stone wall opposite James, watching students mill about the grounds.

"Because I would have expected you to go to the school board of governors and demand that they accept Remus's paper," James replied casually, straightening his glasses. "'I'm a Black, I'm a Black!'" he said in a ridiculous falsetto.

"You're going to have to lay off my family's status if we're going to be friends," Sirius warned him. "I don't make fun of the Potters for being blood-traitors."

"Well, you can't, because that's nothing to be ashamed of."

Sirius gave James an affronted look before turning on his heel and heading back inside the school.

"Hey, wait—okay, I'm sorry—"

James grabbed Sirius's arm and forced himself in front of the other bow. "I'm sorry," he said in as serious a tone as someone like James Potter could accomplish. "I'll shut up about the blood purity stuff, all right? I'll respect your sensitivity," he added, trying to suppress a chuckle.

Sirius shook his head and took a step to the side. "Fuck you, Potter."

James burst out laughing at that. "Okay, I'm sorry! I was kidding—I couldn't help myself, but I'll shut up for real this time, all right? I promise."

Sirius wanted to tell James off, but he couldn't help but smile at the obvious warmth on James's face. Merlin, was the boy infuriating.

"I have to admit, I'm impressed with your language, Black," James added, throwing an arm over Sirius's shoulder as they made their way to Gryffindor Tower. "I never thought I'd hear those words come out of your mouth."

"You're a terrible influence," Sirius told him. "If my family ever heard me speak like that—"

"They'd write you a strongly-worded letter about decorum? Deny you access to the summer estate?"

"My mother might curse me and rip out my tongue," Sirius said seriously.

James came to a stop, mouth open. A rare moment where he was stunned into silence. "Really?" he asked uncertainly.

Sirius snorted loudly. "Of course not. I was being facetious."

James let out an uneasy laugh. "You can't joke about that Dark Arts stuff. I don't know when you're being serious."

"Then don't make fun of my family," Sirius told him. He held out his hand to James.

"All right, deal," James said, taking it.

"But we have to seal the deal," Sirius added, pulling out his wand with his free hand. "You know how an Unbreakable Vow works, right?"

James ripped his hand out of Sirius's. His eyes were wide for a moment before chuckling. He ran a hand through his messy hair uneasily. "Okay, you got me. Now stop it."

Sirius put his wand back, smirking.

"Hey, let's stop by the kitchens," James said when they had reached the main entrance hall. "I want to see if they'll give us some butterbeer."

Sirius checked his watch. "But dinner is starting in an hour—"

"And they don't serve butterbeer with dinner, do they?" James said. "Now, come on! You've already broken half a dozen school rules today, Black. Who cares about one more?"

Sirius hesitated, looking around the empty entrance hall. "Oh, all right," he finally said, following James toward the lower levels of the school. "Let's grab an extra one for Remus."

* * *

><p>Sirius watched as Remus's brow furrowed in confusion when Underhill set his essay down on his desk two days later. He straightened up immediately, flipping it over quickly to see the bolded top mark. "But I thought—"<p>

Sirius kicked him from under the desk, giving Remus the most imperceptible of head-shakes. Underhill continued down the line without a second glance. Remus shot her a furtive look before whispering to Sirius, "I missed the deadline."

"Did you?" Sirius muttered idly, pretending to sound disinterested.

"Yeah," Remus continued more seriously. "I'm pretty sure I never even turned my paper in."

"You got top marks, eh?" James said loudly, turning around to snatch Remus's essay up. "I might need to borrow that brain of yours, Lupin—"

James and Peter were grinning, but Remus looked around at them with a suspicious expression. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," said James and Sirius in unison, which was the only thing they could have done to cement Remus's suspicions of them.

Remus glanced over his shoulder furtively before continuing in an irritated undertone, "That's _cheating_—"

"It's your paper," Sirius interrupted.

"That I never turned in!"

"Remus, are you certain you're not still feeling under the weather?" James asked in a voice full of motherly concern. He reached out a hand to feel Remus's forehead, but the other boy swatted it away. "Because it sounds to me," James continued in a low voice, giving Remus a stern look. "like you actually expect to fail Defense."

Remus glared at James and Sirius before letting out a deep breath. "If you two get caught—"

James snorted at that. "Right. Like I'd ever get caught."

"He's too good at sneaking around," Sirius added.

"Quiet as a mouse."

"Finally there's some use for his girlish, delicate step—"

James rounded on Sirius. "Shut the fuck up, Black—"

"Mr. Potter! Did I just hear that language coming from your mouth?" Underhill suddenly said, turning around with her hands on her hips.

James visibly deflated a few inches.

"Quiet as a mouse?" Sirius mouthed to him. James flipped him the bird under Remus's essay before turning back around.

Defense passed in the usual manner after that, and none of the four boys mentioned Remus's essay again. When the bell rang to signal the end of the lesson, Sirius packed up his bag and followed Remus toward Potions. James and Peter weren't far behind; Sirius hadn't quite gotten used to the idea of a friendship with James Potter.

"So Slughorn's having one of his parties on Friday," Sirius told Remus as they took their usual seats in the middle of the classroom. "We're allowed to bring a guest along. Would you be interested? At the very least it's an opportunity for some really good food."

"Black!" came James's voice as he suddenly dropped to their level, wedged between them. "Are you asking Remus out on a date?"

Sirius was used to James's childish humor at this point. "Why, are you jealous?" he replied calmly.

James shrugged, clapping both boys on their backs. "Well, Mum always said to marry rich. If Remus isn't your type, you'll keep me in mind, yeah?"

Sirius sank into one of his hands. "Potter, how does anyone put up with you?"

James tossed his book bag heavily into the desk nearby. "That's mine," he said, eyeing a nearby Slytherin who had been about to sit down. "I'm a charmer, Black."

It was a joke of course, but there was an undeniable truth to that. James was loud, and a little annoying with his crude language and inappropriate jokes, but he was unmistakably likeable. Outside of Slytherin House, Lily Evans was the only First Year to have something negative to say about James Potter, and even the professors openly smirked at some of the boy's jokes. James Potter was undeniably the most popular student in their year.

He was also a pureblood from a wealthy family, and Sirius had hoped it was enough to keep the Black family off his back for some time. And it may very well have been if it weren't for the fact that the two boys also spent their time with half-bloods. Narcissa—and Malfoy, by extension—had kept their word and made an effort to appear civil to Sirius, but it was strained. Sirius began spending more and more time with the members of his own House, even choosing to sit with James and the others during the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff quidditch game instead of his own family. He no longer made an effort to speak to the Slytherins of his year, and sometimes openly laughed at James's jokes about them in class.

This pattern might have continued if Andromeda hadn't grabbed Sirius's arm roughly one morning in early March and dragged him off toward an empty corridor on the third floor.

"Are you mad?" she demanded. "You're openly ignoring the members of your family and even _flaunting _your new friendships."

Sirius took a step back, frowning. "Andromeda, _you're _the one who encouraged me to befriend my own House—"

"Not at the expense of your familial duties or your societal expectations!" she hissed without venom. "You may be a Gryffindor, but you're still the heir to the Black family! You think it's satisfactory enough to get good grades, and that's your pass to do whatever you please? You skipped Narcissa's birthday last month, and I know you haven't sent one letter to Aunt Walburga since you left her house at the end of break!"

"Well, perhaps I don't care what everyone else thinks," said Sirius bravely, trying to suppress the uncertainty he felt at the words. "Perhaps I'm old enough to make my own decisions, and—"

"Sirius, you don't get it," Andromeda interrupted. "_You're the heir. _It doesn't matter what you want."

Sirius felt like a dam had suddenly broken. He looked anywhere but at Andromeda. "Well, that's just stupid—"

"No, it isn't," she continued seriously. "You're expected to use your time in school to develop connections to powerful families. It'll be your responsibility to make sure the members of the Black family keep their wealth, their statuses, their properties—that their future generations inherit something worth receiving. The livelihoods of a lot of people relies on your ability to behave like the Head of the family."

Sirius took a deep breath, looking around the empty corridor as though someone might come and help.

"Look, I understand how unfair it is," she said. Sirius finally looked at her, and saw that her eyes were filled with tears. "Sometimes I don't feel like my life is my own. But being a Black has given me opportunities I ought to be grateful for—and one day you will realize that, too. You're still young enough that you can stop making foolish choices, it's not too late for you to avoid tangling yourself up with the wrong people—"

"Like your muggle-born boyfriend?" Sirius asked quietly.

Andromeda looked like Sirius had just hit her. Her mouth dropped open for a few seconds before she composed herself with unimaginable force. She slapped Sirius once, though not as hard as she could have. "Don't you ever say that again," she whispered, tears falling down her cheek.

Sirius's face stung, but he didn't flinch or move to touch it. Years of mental gymnastics with Walburga had taught Sirius to hold his own.

Andromeda wiped as her face roughly. She looked at Sirius like she was about to say something more, but appeared to change her mind. She turned on her heel wordlessly, heading in the direction of her Common Room, leaving Sirius alone.

"What was that all about?" James asked a moment later when Sirius had rejoined them, uncharacteristically silent.

"I'm not sure," Sirius replied, rubbing the spot on his cheek where Andromeda had hit him.

After an investigation that lasted several days and involved exhausting mind games, Sirius managed to get the full story from his cousin, Narcissa. Sirius had to bribe her with an expensive late birthday present and at least a dozen compliments to get her to speak.

Shortly after Valentine's Day Aunt Druella had heard through one of her many gossip lines that her middle daughter was secretly dating a muggle-born named Ted Tonks. After a long letter detailing exactly how Andromeda would be disowned and cut off from her family, Sirius's favorite cousin quietly broke off the relationship. As punishment for her indiscretion and the "risk of such _embarrassing _news" reaching listening ears, Andromeda was to lose her monthly allowance from Grandfather Pollux, give up her intended internship at the Ministry, and spent the first year after Hogwarts at home.

"So Mother and the others can keep an eye on her," Narcissa said, obviously pleased that her older sister had lost favor with their parents. "She's proven she cannot handle herself at Hogwarts, so how can she be expected to keep a sensible head at the Ministry? Mother didn't like the idea of her working a job in the first place, but this affair was simply too much."

"So they're just going to keep her locked up in the house? For a year?" Sirius asked, frowning.

"I suppose," said Narcissa, sounding disinterested. "I didn't ask—it's her own fault, if you ask me. Lucius agrees—Andy could have ruined my prospects by running off with a muggle."

Sirius's frown deepened. "I thought Tonks was muggle-born."

Narcissa rolled her eyes, brushing her curtain of blonde hair over her shoulder. "Whatever. They're essentially the same thing."

Sirius didn't often see his elder cousin, but after that he made it a point to search for her face among those at the Slytherin table. She wasn't often present for breakfast or lunch, but at dinner she kept a cool mask of indifference bred into the Black family. No one would have guessed that she was being held prisoner in her own life.

"You all right, mate?"

Sirius snapped back to reality and turned to see James watching him. The other boy looked at the Slytherin table then back to Sirius. "Thinking of defecting?" he teased gently.

"Right," said Sirius, forcing a smile. "It's rather tiresome being around blood-traitors all day."

James looked back at the Slytherin table, not to be deterred by a joke. "That's your cousin, isn't it?"

"Some of them," Sirius replied idly.

"Why does she look so…empty?"

Sirius looked up at that. "Sorry?"

"Well—and I mean this with complete sincerity—that Narcissa looks like she's got a dungbomb under her nose all the time. Like everything just disgusts her—and that Malfoy tosser is no better, walking around with that fucking cane halfway up his arse—"

The cane in question was a delicate one carved of ebony and ivory, and Lucius often liked to stroll through the castle "like a pompous prick," according to James, whacking younger students with it.

"That other one, the brunette—I guess I don't have a problem with her, only because she doesn't seem like a soulless harpy. But she just looks…empty. Like everything got taken out of her and she's walking around like a puppet." James turned to look at Sirius, uncharacteristically serious. "So what happened to her?"

"Dunno," Sirius lied. "I don't really talk to my cousins anymore."

James snorted at that. "I don't fucking believe that for a second. You could tell them to lick your shoes if you wanted, Scion of the Most Pompous House of Black."

The corners of Sirius's mouth twitched at that, but he fought to keep a straight face. "I guess she had this boyfriend, but he's not marriage material, so they had to end the relationship."

"Oh, right, that Tonks fellow."

Sirius rounded on James, swallowing his dinner hard. "How d'you know?"

James raised an eyebrow, shaking his head in disbelief at Sirius's suprise. "How does anyone know anything in this school? That old cloak is good for more than just knicking pies, you know. So why'd she break it off with him, then? She's got to be like eighteen—who cares if Mum and Dad don't like her boyfriend."

Sirius turned back to his plate, suddenly losing his appetite. "It doesn't really work like that. Your personal wants are irrelevant if it doesn't benefit the family."

"That's stupid."

"That's the reality of belonging to the Black family," said Sirius darkly. "In exchange you receive wealth, protection, and opportunities unlike anything other. A small price to pay for that level of security," Sirius added. "She's not in the direct line, so she's not even under that much pressure. All she has to do is enter a respectable marriage and produce sons."

James gave him a level look. "Are you defending them?"

"They're my family," Sirius replied shortly.

James looked like he wanted to argue the point further, but a level look from Remus shut him up. Instead he shrugged and turned back to his plate. "If you're not going to finish your hen, I'll take it."

"Sure," Sirius said unenthusiastically, pushing his plate toward James. He turned back to glance at Andromeda across the Hall.

Emptied out and given a plaster mask. A small price to pay for the prestige of the Black family name.


End file.
